Yesterday, I hit the main post office downtown to mail off a letter. After pulling my number from the lonely little red machine, I stood in line only briefly before getting called up. As I approached the counter, the woman clerk in front of me, who looked like she wanted to be done with the day said in a voice that wasn't as tired as she looked, "What can I help you with today?"
After getting my first sentence out, the woman clerk to my left with perfectly coiffed hair, who purchased my book when I was doing a mailing last month started giving an on-the-spot review. I was happily shocked. I would've bought someone a cup of coffee if they'd taken a picture of my face at that exact moment. After pointing out a few pieces she connected with, she ended with a thunderous, "Girl, that book is good!"
The woman clerk in front of me cocked her head to the side a bit, shifted her weight to her right foot, leaned in a bit to the counter and said, "Wait, you're an author?" I shot her a smile and nodded my head, and replied, "Yep." The woman clerk in front of me, her perfectly round blue eyeshadow laced eyes shot back at me a look of confusion and intrigue. "What is it about? I know I see you in here all the time mailing stuff off but I didn't know you were a writer." I quickly raised my head back up from filling out the return address I forgot to put on the envelop, and said, "It's a collection of poetry and selected writings." Then like a knee-jerk reaction from my lips, I blurted out, "I host a writers workshop on Thursday night if you're interested."
"I have a B.A. and M.A. in English and I want to get back to my writing." The woman clerk to my left looked at her coworker and yelled, "WHAT? What are you doing working here at the post office?" I stood back and listened to the awe-filling ping-pong exchange go down. "I'm a single mother and the post office is the safest bet for me right now but I really want to be a college professor. I want to write." I don't know what I was more impressed with, her public vulnerability or the patience of the customers behind me who not once grunted or said anything. No one seemed to be in a hurry and were all attentively listening. The clerk turned back to me, looked me in the eyes and said, "Can I come to the workshop? I might get there a little late because of my job but I feel like this was meant to be. I feel like it's my time."
*Moral of the story for me that I want to pass on to you: You know that idea you've been sitting on because you don't know how you gonna pull it off, don't know where the support or space is gonna come from, but you really want to do it--Talk to folks about it. Share your vision with the right folks in the right space and the right person may overhear you and assist you with making that shit happen. You never know who is out there waiting on you to live your dream(s) so they can remember theirs.