Metamorphosis
That moment when you know you’ve become someone new.
The timing took me by surprise. I had survived several rounds of layoffs and expected to be “safe” until at least the start of the new year. I left the office and headed straight to my rock. My biggest cheerleader. My husband.
“It is your moment, Lia. Do what you’ve wanted to do for years, write your memoir. Take the time. Do it now.”
I wasn’t so easily convinced. Our savings had been depleted on the path to parenthood which, for us, was riddled with pitfalls including stillbirth, infertility, many rounds of IVF, and surrogacy.
I asked a friend, a celebrated memoirist, for advice. He was generous with his time and guidance suggesting I write the first two chapters and come back to him. I did.
He told me I had a powerful story to tell, one that could undoubtedly help many and one that strikes a chord with the current events surrounding women’s reproductive rights. He said I needed an editor. Someone patient. Someone who was a parent. Someone who deeply understood the pain of loss. He knew just the right person: Charles Bock.
In our initial emails, Charles described my writing as enjoyable and totally worth discussing. “You have the potential here to tell a story, to make it all matter.”
To make it all matter. Yes, please.
Charles went on to tell me my first draft had a “beating heart” that gave my story life. “You are successful and smart but also weird and quirky enough to become a tour guide and wear saddle shoes out on a street corner just because it’s an interesting and fun thing to do.”
That tracks, I thought. He gets me.
“Let’s do this,” I said.
He encouraged me to dig in and finish the first draft, even though it’s an incredibly hard thing to do, and he assured me that through the editing process I will discover what the heart of my story truly is.
Charles hosts a writing dojo which, at first, I told him there was “absolutely no way” I could join. The group meets on Zoom from 6 a.m. to 7 a.m. seven days a week, dedicating an uninterrupted hour to writing. I am not a morning person. With skepticism, I set my alarm for 5:40am. Enough time to get up, use the bathroom, make a cup of coffee, and throw a sweater on over my pajamas. It was still dark when my watch started to buzz. I hit snooze but didn't go back to sleep. I laid in bed debating two possible scenarios: I get up and write and start my day feeling accomplished, or I go back to sleep, rest, and start my day feeling like I disappointed myself.
I got out of bed and logged on. Ninety days later, it’s become a habit. My most productive hour every day is the uninterrupted time when the darkness turns to light and my words turn into sentences and then paragraphs and then pages.
*
A few weeks ago, on a cold windy day, I was walking down Third Avenue when I saw an old lady walking precariously, slowly dragging a suitcase behind her looking as if she might be blown over. She cautiously approached an intersection.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“Oh, yes. That would be lovely. A car might hit an old lady, but it won’t hit me if I’m with a young thing like you,” she said.
I was far from young, nearing fifty, but to her eighty-something years, I was youthful. As we crossed the street, she asked, “Tell me, what do you do?”
I paused. I thought about what I should say and then I said what I really wanted to be and hadn’t said to anyone before: I’m a writer.
It felt good to say that out loud.
Words of the Week
Words of the week from Amanda Goetz on X:
“Once you reframe discipline as self love, everything changes.
You wanted to get up early to write?
Love yourself enough to do it.
You wanted to get to the gym?
Love yourself enough to do it.
You wanted to build your side hustle?
Love yourself enough to do it.”
Photo of the Week
The dandelion is the only flower that represents the three celestial bodies—sun, moon, and stars. The yellow flower resembles the sun, the puff ball resembles the moon, and the dispersing seeds resemble the stars1.
Reframing your hopes, wishes, and aspirations as "Do I love myself enough to pursue this?" shifts perspective. Dandelions delight us as we make a wish and blow their seeds into the wind.
I'm blowing a virtual dandelion seed your way. What dream or goal do you wish to manifest? Use that sense of wonder to inspire positive change in your life.
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Information on the sun, moon, and stars was gathered from Tonya Lemos’ Substack,, Art That Breathes.