If there was one thing I hoped might come out of my experience that day, it was that I might be able to help someone, even just a single person in the crowd. I wanted to be able to give someone the same spark of hope in their journey that Tony had given to me when I had attended his show for the first time.
Soon after that day, I received an email that stood out from the rest. It was from a publisher in the city. He said he had heard me speak and was intrigued by my story, asking if I would I like to meet to hear his thoughts. Sure, I thought, why not? We met at a small coffee shop in the city, and he went on to tell me a bit about who he was and why he believed I should be writing a book. I guess it shouldn’t have come as a shock that this was what he wanted to discuss, but upon hearing the words I thought to myself, Me? Write a book? The same person who spent her high school years being told not to bother with university? The same person who never managed to fit into the mold? How could it be that someone believed I should write a book? I’m not a writer, and even though I love books, I rarely have the time to read them. I’m an audiotape listener for crying out loud!
I took some time to consider his offer. By our second meeting, I found myself warming up to the idea. By our third meeting, we found ourselves seated at the round table in my office, with my children present, passing papers back and forth between us as I signed on the dotted line. I may not be a writer, but that didn’t mean I didn’t have a story to tell. My instincts were speaking up, and I knew deep down that this new project was meant to be a part of the next chapter of my life.