My 7 year old is my Guru

“Why do you always say I learn from my mistakes? Do I always have to get in trouble to learn stuff?!”
My son was hanging out the car window waving at neighboring cars in traffic until I scolded him to close the window and put his body in the car. “We don’t know those people, Abe! We don’t know if they are kind or safe, and we surely don’t hang out of car windows.”
“Sorry, mom,” he said before laying that first line on me. “Seriously though, mom. Why can’t I learn from something that’s not a mistake?”
It was a really fair question. And without wanting to turn this into long and drawn out “teachable moment,” I tried to leave out my own historical findings as a human and distill my words. “You know, you say ‘making mistakes’ and ‘getting in trouble’ like they’re bad things.”
“They ARE bad mom,” he rolled his eyes.
“Only if you choose to see them that way. What if making mistakes is actually awesome because, like you just said, it’s how we learn new stuff.”
Sometimes as a mom I even surprise myself.
While my child continued rolling his eyes and feeling annoyed, I thought back to all of my mistakes that led to learning really big things. I’d say the biggest mistake was getting married because I thought I had to. Married was what I wanted to be. The man I married, my son’s father, was the obvious choice because I loved him and he asked me. That mistake was never a conscious thought. I didn’t make the mistake while thinking, “This isn’t a heartfelt decision at all. This is a ‘Keeping up with the Jonses’ decision.” Of course, not. I whole-heartedly thought I was doing the very best thing, and it took years to tune into my conscious mind and understand where I went wrong. (It probably took him years to figure out the same thing.) But I learned so many huge lessons from those mistakes. Now in my second marriage, I understand what they mean when they say, “When you know, you know,” and also, “Marriage is difficult.” I understand because I’m here. I’m in it. Consciously. Fully.

I didn’t know you can’t microwave metal until I did it. I didn’t know internet lines run underground until I cut one with a shovel. I didn’t know high heels sink in dirt until I wore a pair to an outdoor wedding. And while all of these caused inconvenient experiences in my life, I learned from them. So how can mistakes really be all that bad? What if mistakes are actually awesome?!

Truth be told I hate making mistakes. I hate being wrong. But I convinced myself in the car that afternoon that, once again, changing my mindset would probably change the way I feel about mistakes.
“Mom! Check out my mistake!” Later that night, my son showed me a picture he drew.
“Where’s the mistake?” I asked.
“You can’t see it. I made the mistake, learned from it, and decided to turn it into something better. Now you can’t even find it!”

Hi. My name is Erin, and my 7-year-old son is my greatest teacher. Everyday.

I’m an (cough sputter spit) author

When I moved to Los Angeles at 22, I planned to pursue acting. I was an actress for 13 years prior. My experience and training were phenomenal for a person of my age.
I hopped from agency to agency, trying to find representation. Everyone told me, “Great headshot. Great work. Come back in 6 months.”
My bank account suggested I didn’t have 6 months, so I started applying for jobs. Real jobs. Jobby jobs.
At one restaurant interview I explained that I could only work nights because I was an actress. I needed my days free for auditions. It felt…awkward.
I wasn’t an actress. I didn’t even have an agent yet. No auditions. No reel. And because saying it wasn’t true, I subconsciously abandoned the intention of ever becoming an actress. And I never did.
I’ve regretted that for 15 years.
When people ask me what I do now, it feels very strange to say I’m an author. I don’t have a book to show them. I don’t have a published article or even a pamphlet. Can I technically be an “author” if I’ve got nothing to show for it yet?
When I get nervous about that title, I try to remember telling that interviewer, “I’m an actress,” but never believing it. I’m going to have to see this one through if I want to own that title. I’m going to have to believe I’m an author before I am one.
I got a smidgeon of confirmation in my email. The publisher has my book and they’re running their first content eval. It will happen. It is happening. I will have a book to hold up when I say “I’m an author.”
Until then, I’m an author. For real. Starting right now. I refuse to look back in 15 years with more regrets.

When I Move, You Move

Something new has clicked.

It all started when I decided to gently walk away from my job.
Well, no, it all actually started when I tried to buy a gym.
No, really it all started at the Writers’ Conference I attended in October.
Well, no it all started over the summer when I found out about the Writers’ Conference.
Eh. It actually all started when I decided to start blogging more regularly last year.
Actually, maybe it all started when I figured I would chase after my own dreams when the 2017 ball dropped…

(Spoiler alert – It started then and even before all that.)

What’s clicked for me over the past year is while setting every last domino up for a spectacular display of gravity and momentum is necessary, it is not the final step. The final step is moving.
Pushing the first domino.
But the real clicky moment for me was when I realized that I need both – The set up and the push.

I spent so much time last year journaling, listening to podcasts, watching The Secret over and over again, praying, focusing on gratitude, and sometimes full-on tantrumming about what I want. And what I want is not so hard: tons of money, a fulfilling career, plenty of freedom, and an adventurous, healthy, loving family. (Easy peasy, right?!) But with all that intentional focus, I didn’t see a single thing moving me in the direction of what I wanted. I saw that I was still working for other people making just enough money to cover our bills while my husband built his business with no way out to get to what I wanted.
I did try to take action. I applied for jobs, of which I was awarded none. I tried to start my own copywriting business, which fizzled before it started. I tried to start about 3 other businesses, none of which it appeared I could commit to. What I figured out (in hindsight, not at the time) was that all my action was based in fear and in force. I began by moving from a place of fear that I would never have the things I want, and continued the momentum of moving by forcing things into place in order to get what I want.

It turns out, that didn’t work.

What did work was all that intentional focus. That work I did at the beginning of the year was my set up, my perfectly squared dominos. My desires, my wants, my wishes were all stacking up in a perfect line in front of me; I just couldn’t see the results yet. Like Mike Dooley explains, when you enter a final destination into your GPS, you follow the instructions it gives you. Sometimes you get re-routed. Sometimes there’s a slow asshole in front of you in the fast lane that really pisses you off. Sometimes you have to stop to pee or your mom calls or you need some beef jerky. And if you continue following the directions, you LITERALLY won’t know if they worked until you arrive at your final destination. You’ll have ZERO PROOF that you’re going to get to where you want to go until you arrive. But before you do any driving, you must first set up (enter your final destination) and then you must turn your car on and put it in drive.
What’s important is you move. That’s when you push the first domino.

So all that thought and prayer and journaling led to some blogging because it felt good, and 2017 was the year of feeling good. Soon after I committed to more blogging, an email from Hay House Publishing inviting me to a Writers Workshop. At the time, it looked more like an obstacle than like the perfect next step. It cost big bucks, the hotel was expensive, and I didn’t know if I’d even learn anything new. But I moved because it felt more right than wrong.
Being at the actual Writers Workshop felt SO right and stirred up SO much excitement that I was unstoppable!!! Until I realized that my day-to-day work and life would probably keep me from ever finishing my book. That’s when I was offered the chance to buy a gym.
I got SO excited at the idea of owning my own gym that I threw caution to the wind and went in full throttle. I hired a really expensive business lawyer and educated myself and gathered information and was SO ready to start this new part of my life!!! In fact, I quit my job because I was positive this was going to be THE THING!!!
Turns out, it was not the thing. Ha! And I was left without the income I relied upon and without the dream gym and without a book and without a reason to go on living, etc etc etc, and other dramatic phrasing as well.

Then. One day shortly after losing the gym and leaving my job, it clicked.
I moved, and it worked.
I took risks that felt REALLY right, and despite the outcome not APPEARING to be what I thought it should be, I suddenly realized it was everything I prayed for.
Being an author allows me the chance to make tons of money, be fulfilled in my career, feel free, and have an adventurous, loving, healthy family. I moved and it resulted in a string of events that has led me here: it’s January, my husband’s business is doing so well that he can cover our bills and then some, and I now have the time and freedom to finish my book, publish it, and start the next one. I’m on the journey RIGHT NOW and it’s leading me toward the perfect life (as far as I define a “perfect life”). I’m in the middle of the route and it’s WORKING! I feel perfectly led to exactly where I’m supposed to be with absolutely no idea what “where I’m supposed to be” is or how it will all turn out.
What a delightful, horrifying concept.

But as Brene Brown says, “The opposite of faith is certainty.” I have complete faith that this path will continue to lead me to all the places I want to go, despite the fact that I have no proof it will work until I arrive. And in the everlasting words of the theologian Ludacris, “When I move, you move.”

Just like that.

Your New Year’s Resolution

Dear Friend,


You might call me God. Or maybe the Universe. I might be your Higher Power or The Mother. Maybe, to you, I’m a Goddess or The Creator or The Source.
If you don’t call me by any of those names, then you likely know me as “a coincidence.”
Either way, there’s no judgement here. I just wanted to say hi.

I wanted to mention that you’re here to enjoy yourself. You’ve got the chance to seriously love life, if you want to take that chance. (And it is a chance.) It all feels very risky; I know. It feels like it’s all or nothing, or maybe like it could possibly go wrong. It feels like you might be labelled a “sell-out” or a dreamer or a loser. For the short time you’re here, those things are a big deal. That’s why it’s really, really, really hard to believe that taking that risk that feels so right (but, if it isn’t, could potentially ruin your entire life) is worth it. Easier to just stay still. Fewer projectiles at risk of hitting you when you stay still.
Good news, though. This isn’t a “jump and everything will work out” message. You can jump, but everything might not work out. Not at first. You could jump and everything could fall apart and take a year to put back together. (That’s a skin-your-knee lesson.) Still, though. Jump.
You could also spend some time preparing yourself for the jump. Get a nice parachute, a delightful instructor with years of experience, and plenty of back-up plans. Did you know that preparing to jump is totally ok, too? (It doesn’t actually man that you didn’t “really want” it. It means you decided to limit your chances of failure first. Kinda smart.)

But the point of all of it is to love your life. And you can. You can literally love everything about it. Whether you prepare your brain and spirit for all of that loving first, or you just jump and deal with the fact that you’ll probably hit a few rocks on the way down, you can love it.

So lets get detailed:
Hate your job? That’s ok. Find a job you know you’d hate even more and you might like this one a little better. And while you’re in the business of learning to like your job a little bit better, you should look for another job and ask some friends about where they work and watch movies about people who do things differently from you and decide which parts of those movies you like. You won’t hate your job forever if you don’t keep it forever.
Hate your relationship? That’s ok. Watch a little Maury Povich and then find some things you can plainly see work well in your relationship (like maybe your partner doesn’t have any illegitimate children with other people?). Open a door for him/her. Pull out a chair. Cook a meal or pack a lunch. You might find out you don’t actually hate your relationship…you just hate the way it’s been lately. Or, maybe you do hate it. In that case, feel free to leave it. Or go on Maury.
Hate your dwelling? Definitely move. Don’t listen to them when they tell you it’s a “bad market” or “not good timing.” They don’t get to decide when it is good for you. If you can’t find another place, keep looking. You’ll know it when you see it.

It doesn’t matter what you aren’t loving about life right now. It can all change. Just decide to change it and then don’t panic when it doesn’t change tomorrow. (It probably won’t.)

One last thing – 2018 isn’t “your year.” It’s not the turning point or the new beginning or the perfect time. You get to pick all that stuff whenever you want. But picking it now would be the best time ever.

Resolve to believe you can and should be your version of happy all the time. Best resolution I can think of.

Love you,
God/Universe/Higher Power/The Mother/Goddess/The Creator/The Source/A Coincidental Blog


My husband has this uncanny ability to face fear right in the face and march right through it.
I have an uncanny ability to cry during This is Us.

When he decided to open his own business a year and a half ago, I decided it would be my job to help him. I worked tirelessly, day and night, for weeks getting his licenses and insurance policies and payroll set up. The problem was that I hadn’t ever done anything like this before, so not only was I incredibly stressed out, I was terrified.

Terr. I. Fied.
Three words.

If what Bear was doing, starting this business, didn’t work…there was no safety net. There was no back-up plan. There was absolutely nothing guaranteeing that I was doing any of this right or that it would work.
My stress levels got so high that I literally lost my hair. A third of my hair.

And every time I looked at him, sitting over on the couch with a movie playing and his laptop in his lap, I felt incredibly resentful. He didn’t look scared. He didn’t look stressed. He didn’t even look tired. And I couldn’t understand why I was the ONLY ONE freaking out…

Let’s be honest. It doesn’t even look like he’s going to make it…

Now, as I embark on my OWN major risk-taking experiences for the first time in my entire life, I can look back and see what he was doing. He was doing what every great guru and business coach says to do: he created a vision, made a plan, and executed without acknowledging the possibility of failure. Because he simply didn’t need to deal with failure until he’d failed. And nothing, yet, was failing. He grew faster than people suggested he should, not to prove them wrong (though that his a great motivator), but because he knew exactly what he was doing. He envisioned all of it long before it happened, so while we were all feeling surprised and rushed, he’d had it all planned out well in advance.
Granted, my husband’s brain is very, very, very different from mine. I think about steps. Linear steps. I think about the map, the order of operations, and all the possible outcomes. He thinks about all of that and more, all at the same time, with attachment to none of it. So I am most definitely not comparing the two of us. But what I am starting to realize is that making moves, any moves, leads to massive chain reactions. Making no moves leads to a very safe, predictable life. And that can be nice. But if my 10-years-in-the-future self looked at me right now and told me either to move or stay put, what do you think she would say? And how disappointed do you think she would be if I chose to stay in the same place and put the pressure on her to make the moves?

I don’t like change. I don’t like instability. I don’t like not knowing whether or not something is going to work. But as Mike Dooley says, when you put a new address into a GPS and you start driving, you literally don’t know if it worked until you arrive at your final destination, and not a moment sooner.

I have a few opportunities in 2018. One of them is to publish my first book with Hay House publishing (which will happen). There are others, too. And so I’m trying to be like my husband: see the vision, make the plan, and execute without paying much attention to the end results until I get there. I get waves of deep-stomach anxiety a few times a day. I feel angry that I’m even being given these opportunities because it means I have to grow out of my comfort zone (and I like it in here). But guess what? This all fell in my lap. It landed and I can literally choose to move it over and walk away if I want to. And I want to. But the truest part of me want to see what happens. So I’ll keep moving and it if all goes to shit, I’ll start a GoFundMe for my mortgage.

The Affair

On our way home from Thanksgiving with family, I got a text from one of my closest friends asking me to come over. It’s unlike her, as she’s not really the touchy-feely type who likes visitors. She’s more the, “If there’s a problem, let’s solve it. I’ve got notepaper and shovels,” type of friend. I told her I could come over after we got back into town and that’s when she dropped the bomb…
She’d just learned her husband had been having an affair.
I gasped so loudly that Bear repeated, “WHAT? WHAT? WHAT?” in the truck as he drove, and I couldn’t seem to get words out fast enough. The rest of our three hour drive was filled with silence and a bunch of “Oh my God” and “What the fuck?!”
This wasn’t the couple from whom you’d expect this news. This wasn’t the day on which you’d expect this news. (Is there a proper day?) This was completely blindsiding. And if I felt blindsided, I couldn’t imagine how my friend felt.

I immediately started feeling my divorce PTSD kick in. I was never cheated on, myself, but I know all too well the massive implosion that happens when you get those divorce papers in the mail or, that very specific moment when you realize that you’re definitely getting divorced. Me? I was sitting in our kitchen in the house we bought together at about noon on a Wednesday, and a weird little voice spoke in my head and said, “There is no coming back from this. You’re going to get divorced and move out.” It could have been my dad speaking, who died almost 30 years ago now. It could have been God, but it didn’t sound like the one I usually talk to. Whoever it was sent a MASSIVE rush of fear, anxiety, anger, and acceptance all at once through my body. It was the turning point: the moment that I stopped praying I could fix the things we’d both done to screw it all up and, instead, started walking through the war zone that was my life to get to my new life.

Getting the phone call that someone I knew well and trusted implicitly had cheated on my friend made me wonder, “Do you not realize that it’s not just your spouse you affect with your behavior?” I started feeling angry that he hadn’t once thought about how it would all affect his friends and family, not just his wife.
Of course, being the ever-inquisitive one looking for the other side of the coin, I started googling. I wanted to find out why people do this.
As we all kinda already know, I found a million articles to suggest there is no one reason why something like this happens. There are opinions, well-researched books and articles, and a handful of podcasts (all of which I listened to) on the subject. The through-line amidst it all is that the reason never really matters. The way both people handle it afterwards is what matters. And there’s no right way to handle it, either! So by the end of my 5-day crusade to understand why this was happening to two people I cared for so much, I came to the rock-bottom conclusion that there is nothing to understand. There is only picking up and choosing how to move forward through the war zone to get to the next life. As Esthere Perrel, a famed infidelity researcher, said, “This marriage is over. Now you get to decide if you’re going to start a second one together or not.”

I quietly mourned all week, for my friend and for my first marriage. It seems whenever my divorce PTSD gets triggered, I have to mourn it all all over again. I am in such a better place, such a stronger marriage than I was 5 years ago, and yet I still struggle to love and accept that I didn’t end up with the picture-perfect life I’d so hoped for.
The more I let go of the “picture-perfect” though, the more I figure out that there isn’t really ever such thing. Sure, you can experience it for a while, but life has a way of happening. Stability and stasis aren’t the norm. Change and growth and constant updating are the norm. And the sooner you can get used to that, the easier it is to be happy even when things aren’t picture-perfect.

Were you ever shocked by someone you knew who was having an affair? How’d you handle it? Did you say something? Did you try and save the friendship?

Big hugs to my friend if she’s reading. Keep pushing forward. I’ve got a notebook and two shovels.

Showing Up

I spent 5 days in Las Vegas last week, breaking my own “no more than three days in Vegas” rule. I made that rule in my 20s, and now in my 30s, it’s a lot harder to get into trouble, so five days was totally doable.
When Bear and I grabbed a taxi from the airport to the hotel, my first question to our very cool cab driver was, “How’s Vegas? Where were you when it happened?”
He told me the story of being only a block away from Mandalay Bay that night, wondering what kind of sound he was hearing. He said it was too much, too fast to be gun shots. And when he realized it was, in fact, gun shots, he didn’t know what to do but get in his cab and drive around.
Eventually, he drove close enough to the chaos that he was able to use his cab to shuttle people away from the scene of the crime as Las Vegas went on lockdown. Instead of driving away from it all, he drove right into the mess and tried to help clean it up. He said the city was quiet, eerie, strange for a few days after that. But once the smoke cleared, he remarked on how resilient the city is. “We don’t back down. Vegas is our life and we weren’t going to sit down and wait for it to be safe again. We went back to work.”

If there’s one thing that my divorce and second marriage (creating a blended family) has taught me, it’s that you can’t run away if you want to grow. This past week, I ironically encountered a lot of people running away from discomfort. People saying their feelings were hurt, that they didn’t feel safe, they were offended…they ran in the other direction instead of running towards the discomfort like our taxi cab driver in Vegas did. And I realized that the brave ones are the ones who actually show up to sit in all the muck and messy life that is friendship and relationships and parenthood. They sit down and stay there until some of it gets cleaned up, and at least some of the rest of it gets acknowledged. It’s never a perfect story and it rarely ends in a crisp, clean happy ending. But showing up to the mess is probably the only way I’ve ever found to avoid running into that same mess again somewhere else. Cleaning it up feels like death, until it’s over and you realized you survived. Then it feels like victory.

Showing up sometimes looks like knowing when to say when. Sometimes it’s a white flag. Sometimes it’s a physical fight. Sometimes it’s a loud voice and curse words. Sometimes it’s . taxi cab driving towards gunshots in Vegas. There’s no formula, no single one way to show up in the face of discomfort. Not everyone is a hero and not everyone knows how to apologize, which is why we all get the opportunity over and over and over again to show up and learn all the different ways to run towards the chaos. Because the chaos gets a little less chaotic each time you do it. Sitting in the mess feels less…messy after a while.

I thought about it for hours after our cab ride: Would I drive my cab TOWARDS the gun shots? The answer, still, is a resounding no. Maybe in a year or two I’d be brave enough to consider it (if he even considered it before he did it). I tip my hat to Vegas (I don’t wear hats but you know what I mean) for being a city that ran towards the chaos and then went back to work. The metaphor in all that tragedy wasn’t lost on me.


A Deep Tuesday Blog

My husband told me the other day that we become completely different people every 5 years; meaning that if you look back at who you were 5 years ago, it’s almost not even recognizable as your life.
He’s totally right.
I got to thinking about who I was 5 years ago…

Blissfully ignorant.
People pleasing.
Kind of self-righteous.
Feeling a rumble of dissatisfaction and ignoring it.

…to name a few.

We pride ourselves on being reliable and loyal without really being honest about what has to CHANGE in order to remain reliable and loyal. I desperately sought people who would remain loyal to me five years ago, assuming that once I’d “nabbed” them, they’d stay.
Hardly anyone stayed.
We love to be able to say, “This is who I am, take it or leave it.” Except that who we are inevitably gets different. We don’t mean to be different. I used to be proud to be me until I started realizing how often “me” changed, and then I got very nervous being me.
I even held “me” in place to try and maintain the illusion of sameness.
We love to stand for things and have opinions. I don’t know about you, but in the last 5 years my opinions about a LOT of things have changed. I mean, I COMPLETELY understand why don’t want to just let your child stay up late “just this once” now. The more I see, the more I understand the sheer number of facets that make up any one human being (and that I don’t have to like all of them to be their friend).
My opinions are more wishy-washy than every before. And I’m a lot more forgiving.
Like 1000% more.

I’m stronger, physically.
I’m stronger, emotionally.
I listen (a little bit) more.
I have a harder time relaxing.
I’m a way better mom.

I’m not going to sit here and say that I like everything about my 5-years-ago self because “she brought me to who I am today” and blah blah blah. There’s a lot about that woman that I am glad is gone. I never want to rely that heavily on other people for my own happiness again. I don’t allow people to use me or to tell me what’s right and wrong for me anymore, either. And I won’t give up so easily anymore, either. She ran and hid when things got hard and I’m not going to do that anymore.
I do miss some stuff about her. That blissful ignorance stuff was nice. And her skin was so much tighter around the jawline…

I like most of my differences. I’m not a fan of getting older and I don’t love how some of what I now know leaves me jaded. But I’m definitely growing in a better direction and with more clearly defined goals.

Think about you 5 years ago, the week before Thanksgiving. What were you doing? Were you happy? Happier than you are now? Were you living in pain or in fear?
What’s different? And are you happy about the differences?

That’s a deep Tuesday blog for ya…

No More Excuses

If you didn’t read last night’s blog, might I suggest you click here and read it…

I didn’t look over the email from Trina. I avoided it like the plague. Publishing my book now was too much, too fast. Unfortunately, though, I forgot to program Trina’s number into my phone, so when she called again a few days later, I accidentally picked up…

“Erin? Hey, It’s Trina! Did you get a chance to go over that email?”
“Yeah, hey Trina! I did!”

I hadn’t. I lied.

“Great! Are you ready to do this?”
“Welp, here’s the thing, Trina…” Somewhere between my fear and being completely uninformed (because I hadn’t read the email), I decided it would be a good idea to get really bitchy. “I understand you say you ‘want my book’, but I also understand you want me to pay to publish it. The whole point of the authors’ workshop was the opportunity to be given an advance and be PAID to write and publish my book. It’s feeling very sinister the fact that I paid all this money to go to a workshop and now you’re calling me and asking me for more money.”
It was quiet for almost 5 minutes, or possibly 7 seconds, before Trina replied…
“Listen, Erin. I’m from New York. You want me to shoot straight? I’ll shoot straight. If you send your book proposal to a publisher, it’ll get thrown away. If an agent sends your book to a publisher, you’ve got a 1 in 3,000 shot of getting published and a 1 in 1,000 of even landing that agent in the first place….
The writers’ workshop participants have the option to participate in a contest to get published without an agent. There were 300 people in the workshop. A third of them will actually finish their book proposals. So that’s a 1 in 100 shot next April, after which it will take 2 years before your book is even available and you have no creative control of any of it.
Publishing your own book through Hay House means we’ll edit and design your book the way you envisioned it. It means you own the rights forever and it means you get to decide when to publish. And, as you read in my email, I’m offering you a huge discount because I’ve been doing this for 20 years and I know a Hay House book when I see one.”

Oh. Super-should have read that email.

“The book isn’t ready yet, Trina,” I said.
“That’s fine. But I’m not offering you this discount forever. If you wait until the contest in April and you aren’t chosen, I’m not offering you a discount to publish then. I’m offering it now. And if you win the contest in April? Then that’s just a cherry on top. You can still go that route because you still own your book.”

For those of you who don’t know, I used to work in the publishing world. I used to TELL people those stats and figures. I used to explain to them why it’s so important they own the rights to their books and how publishing on your own doesn’t mean selling your books out of your car. The irony is that I already knew everything Trina told me. Maybe I forgot. Maybe I didn’t want to know it. Maybe I was terrified that it’s finally time to apply everything I know.

Trina interrupted my train of thought. “Erin, I’m going to get your book into every book retailer in the world. I’m going to have press releases sent to over 70 outlets when your book is ready. I’m going to get you on radio shows and TV shows and while I can’t guarantee any of this will make a difference in your life, it sure could. Why don’t you take the weekend to think about it and I’ll call you on Monday?”
“Ok, Trina. Thanks.”

I hung up the phone feeling really stupid.

I’ve prayed to finish my book, get it published, and speak on the topics therein. I’ve prayed for years that my writing would finally be my job. The chance for all that to happen was just on the phone and I couldn’t possibly believe that it was really meant for me.

The weekend came and went really quickly and my anxiety chilled out quite a bit, especially once I finally read Trina’s email. She was offering me a really huge opportunity…she wasn’t lying. Bear, of course, said do it. “Do it!” he said. “Let’s do this! You were born for this!” Isn’t it funny how we can pray and pray for something, and when the path eventually reveals itself, we don’t immediately jump on it and run?! We’ve lived in the “it’ll never happen” for so long that it’s hard to believe it when it actually does.

That Monday morning, I called Trina before she could call me. In her fact-based tone, with a twinkle of a smile, she asked, “Erin? You ready to do this?”
“Yeah, Trina. I’m ready.”

On Tuesday I signed the contract. And on Wednesday I started writing my book again. A book I hope to have completed by the end of the year. I am officially an author with a publishing contract and a book about to be born. I’m pregnant, kinda.

I’ve been writing this blog for almost 10 years under various domain names. I’ve been writing since I was 15. I absolutely love nothing more than to sit down with a pen and paper or a laptop and write. I want it to be my work. I want it to be my career. And I want it to change my life the way I know it can.

I think it might be starting right now…


Excuses. And a phone call.

A little over a year ago, I got really tired of my own excuses. I decided to move. Literally.
I signed up for a HIIT gym membership and started attending 3-5 days per week. And within about 6 months, I felt great. BUT, my leg (the one I broke in 2014) started giving me trouble. So I told my trainers, “My leg is really bothering me.”
I posted on FB about it.
I went to see numerous doctors.
It was almost 3 months before I realized that my leg was the perfect opportunity for me to pick up my habit of excuse-making.

And it is a habit.

Once I started making excuses for my leg, other things got their very own excuses, too.
I can’t write a blog today because XYZ.
I can’t go out Saturday night because XYZ.
I can’t work on my book because XYZ.
They’re infectious little suckers…

So I stopped again. It’s not like my leg suddenly didn’t hurt anymore and I could do box jumps all day. It’s that I stopped speaking my excuses. If I couldn’t do a movement, I modified or I tried to do something else. My leg still hurts. It’s just not a conversation piece in my head as much anymore. No more excuses.


I was offered the opportunity to go to a Hay House Writers Conference (Hay House is a publisher) at the beginning of the summer, 2017. The conference was $450, which to me is a big chunk of change. My excuse habit came back in full force. $450 was too much money and I couldn’t afford it.
That’s when I was reminded I have a husband who busts excuses for a living, it seems.
“You’re going,” Bear said.

Oh. Ok.

I put the conference on my credit card and paid it off before the day even arrived (because the money was never really an excuse). And when the day did arrive, it was magical. I was reminded of how strongly I felt about finishing the book I started writing in 2012. It lit a fire.

I’m going to publish my book.

A traditional publishing contract was up for grabs to all 300 writers who attended the conference and all I had to do was write a book proposal (the worst book report in the world) to enter. And I was going to enter. And I was going to WIN!
I got home from the conference and started getting my ducks in a row to enter the contest…when I got a phone call.
From Hay House publishing.

I didn’t know it was from Hay House publishing, though, and so I didn’t answer it. When I checked the message, the woman on the other end said, “Hey Erin! This is Trina from Hay House! I know you were at the Writers Conference and I know you’ve already got a book written. I want to hear a little bit about it and talk to you about your options.”
I didn’t call her back. Because excuses.
I don’t have the book COMPLETELY finished.
She’s probably calling everyone, I’m not special.
I’m definitely not ready to talk about “options.”
But the next day, the Nag Monster in my head wouldn’t leave me alone. I finally called her back. She didn’t answer…
I left a message:
“Hey Trina, it’s Erin Salem. I just wanted to call you back and tell you thank you for calling. I am very excited to enter the contest for a traditional Hay House publishing contract and I think I’m going to win it, so the next time we speak I will be on my way! Thanks again, Erin.”
Who says any of that?

About 5 minutes later, my phone rang again…
What is she calling to thank me for thanking her?!

“Hey Erin, it’s Trina!!”
Trina and I went on to talk for about 10 minutes. I shared my book topic with her and…she liked it. Like, really liked it. She told me she thought I would be a great fit for Hay House. I agreed but I couldn’t really understand what she was getting at.
“Listen, Erin, I work with the authors who publish their own books through Hay House. These are the people who already have a voice and want creative control over their work. Do you know most traditionally published Hay House authors started off by publishing their own books?”
“No, I didn’t know that…”
“Yeah! And you would be shocked what we can do for our self-published authors. I just got off the phone with a guy whose book is being turned into a screenplay!”
“Ok, but, I don’t have a platform or an audience. It’s just me.”
“That’s why you publish THROUGH us, Erin. We send you out all over the world with the Hay House name! We want you to do this. We think this makes more sense for you and we want your book. I’m going to send you some options and I want you to seriously consider taking the steps to publish now instead of waiting to find out if you win a contract next year.”
“Wait. Why? Why me, Trina? I don’t get it. I don’t understand why you’re calling me.”
“Because you’re ready, sweetie. You have the book, you have the voice, you have the ability, and you’ve got a story that we want to sell.”

I told Trina I felt like she was trying to sell me something. I told her I didn’t feel ready and I didn’t know why she felt like I was ready. I told Trina this wasn’t the path for me.
Trina is very smart and told me to just think about it, look over the email she was sending to me, and that she’d call me later in the week.

My excuses were as follows:
They didn’t choose me, they just think I can make them money.
I have no audience so this will never work.
My book isn’t even finished.
I’m not ready to finish it.
I don’t know how to finish it.
I’m too busy for this right now.

I didn’t look over the email from Trina. I avoided it like the plague. Publishing my book now was too much, too fast. Unfortunately, though, I forgot to program Trina’s number into my phone, so when she called again a few days later, I accidentally picked up…

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