The nudge
There it is again. The nudge. The magnetic pull to respond, to put myself in the vulnerable position of possible failure, and even more terrifying… possible success.
The Nudge is different from the familiar tap of the shoulder that usually reminds me of all the reasons I’m not good enough. It doesn’t distract me or wake me up at 3 a.m. with anxious thoughts about draining bank accounts, sick children, cars breaking down or houses burning. I’ve almost learned how to talk myself down from those. This is different. This is a nudge to believe in myself, to have faith in my talent and the relevance of my story, and the need to share it with the rest of the world. But still… the thought of it reminds me of one of those dreams where you’re naked and delivering a speech in front of a huge audience.
“Go ahead, give it a try,” The Nudge urges. “Go ahead, be vulnerable. It won’t hurt this time. It’s what you’re supposed to do.”
I don’t believe all The Nudge’s promises, but I respond anyway.
The call to action is delivered by an intelligent and very passionate writer and producer named Heather Christie who is leading a project called LoveNotes! She’s searching for real stories told by real people about real love … ones that describe how it feels to experience love and reach for hope. I can’t recall why this opportunity popped up on my Instagram feed. I don’t remember following this producer or reading her books. I just know that the idea of performing in a storytelling production on a stage in New York City on February 10 sounds pretty amazing. It seems as if each time I scroll through my feed, there she is. Again. Ignoring her request for submissions isn’t an option now. The Nudge agrees, pushing me forward like an elementary school teacher in charge of her students in the talent show.
The day before the deadline submission for LoveNotes! I give The Nudge my full attention. I think about Heather’s search for “true stories of first love, last love and all the love between.” Mentally, I strip down, vulnerable and exposed to the white glare of the computer screen and put my fingers on the keys. The words come easily, and I fill the blank page with a thousand of them. It is a love story. My love story. And then, like I do with everything I write, I close the laptop and step away to let the words swim together on their own.
The next day, I wake up and re-read the essay. Typos are everywhere. The sentences don’t flow. The words don’t do this story justice. The familiar Tapping starts, “What am I thinking? Why am I doing this?” Before I have a chance to answer those questions, I sense a slight rumble in my head. The Nudge appears out of nowhere and The Tapping is thrown to the ground. The Nudge lunges with the pent-up energy of a teenager with raging hormones and a sucker punch that’s worthy of a fight in a high school cafeteria. The Nudge has had enough of The Tapping. I stand back and let them duke it out.
“Wow, this is interesting,” I think. My money is on The Nudge this time.
I make a few edits to the essay before the sun fully rises and feel like I might have some momentum with all these words. Then, I break for a bit to take my youngest daughter to school, wondering if she’ll see any fights in the cafeteria like the one I just saw in my mind. The next couple of hours I work on a second draft, then ask my sister-in-law to record an audition video of me reading it. I throw on a silky red shirt and some lip gloss and mascara. We film it near her fireplace with a cup of Stronger Girl coffee beside me. I submit the essay and recording a few hours short of the audition deadline. I don’t even view the video before I send it. I simply satisfy The Nudge, like a mom might satisfy her child with a stuffed animal souvenir from the zoo gift shop. She’s reluctant, but caves in because there’s no way to get out without walking through the shop and she wants the drive home to be peaceful after a long day in the heat.
“Okay, I did it,” I say to The Nudge, thinking this will be the end of this little test. The part of me that is prone to daydreaming imagines standing in a spotlight in a theatre in New York City on February 10, in front of a crowd of nearly 400. I launched my brand Stronger Girl on February 9 of 2023. It sure would be fun to celebrate another major brave on stage a year later, I imagine. The Tapping starts again and I shoo the daydream away like I would one of my dogs jumping up on the kitchen counter trying to snag a piece of bacon.
I drive to Nashville that afternoon and shift back to reality, thankful to be spending the weekend with a few college roommates. We explore a little town called Leipers Fork and my friend Michelle drives us through the beautiful countryside telling us where all the famous people live. The only bright lights I focus on now are the ones that shine on country music stars.
A few days later, I receive an email. That’s when I realize this isn’t the end of that little test.
It’s just the beginning.
The Nudge is sprawled out on my couch with a big, satisfied grin, arms crossed, legs kicked up while blowing giant, heart-shaped puffs of cigar smoke when I read the email from the producer of LoveNotes! She is, in fact, in love with my story. There’s another writer who has a similar plot as mine and she asks if we are open to a collaboration. We both agree to work together for a chance to share our stories on stage, along with 15 other cast members in an off-Broadway theatre that’s a couple of blocks from Central Park. Looks like I am doing this big, vulnerable, brave thing after all.
The Tapping remains silent for a couple of days, too stunned to respond.
My life has been a lot like a movie in the last few years. Lots of tapping and lots of nudges. But this plot twist is a new one, and a pretty interesting one. There’s a book I read last year entitled Hero on a Mission by Donald Miller. I’m reminded how he encourages people to imagine their life like a movie. I have sticky notes all around my house with quotes from his book, reminding me to push the plot forward each day.
Several of Miller’s quotes in particular stand out …
“If the hero responds with purposeful action and a sense of hope our story will move forward and become interesting.”
“Life tends to meet you as you get moving; the more you move the more opportunities life throws your way.”
“Meaning is experienced by a person when they are moving forward into a story.”
I feel the urge to call Donald and tell him that I did it. I pushed the plot forward and it worked! I want him to be proud that I am transforming by doing, instead of just thinking and dreaming. Maybe I’ll ask him to buy tickets or watch the performance via livestream. Maybe, however (The Tapping reminds me), he’ll have a hundred other more important things to do.
“That’s okay,” The Nudge encourages, “Reach out anyway.” So, I do.
And I also reach out to some other pretty incredible people I’ve met the last couple of years and ask them to buy tickets too. As it turns out, some of them are eager to come and hear a few real stories about love from real people. I’m surprised to learn that several have indeed bought tickets. I think about possibly seeing some familiar, friendly faces in the audience and hope that we can pack The Center at West Park with a full house of nearly 400 people on Feb. 10.
And so … here I am a little over a week away from stepping onto the stage alongside some incredibly talented writers and performers, including a musician named Sam Baker whose song, “Go in Peace,” will awaken a place inside you that is pure and connected to others. I imagine him performing it live and decide to bring one of those little travel-sized tissue packs with me.
The Tapping is persistent, reaching a new level it seems. It’s trying to convince me that this is just my 15 minutes of fame. Nothing more. It will fizzle out after the spotlight turns off. It will be just a fun weekend with my boyfriend in New York City. Then, all the fuss will be over and I’ll go back to the more boring chapters in my story.
The Nudge, however, suggests this could be something else, something that moves the plot forward even further. “Perhaps this is just the beginning,” I allow myself to say aloud.
Hmm. I think about this. I’m growing more curious by the minute. I’m imagining myself as the main character, and I find myself cheering her on instead of tearing her down. That’s a shift.
I glance at the dress that hangs in my closet and I let myself think about how the spotlight might illuminate all the little shimmering sequins on it. The only measurement of success is how I embrace this opportunity. That’s really the only thing I can control. The Tapping needs to take a vacation for a while, I realize. Certainly, it deserves one after all the years of relentless reminders of feeling inadequate and less than. I think about packing a bag for The Tapping and sending it away on a long journey in the opposite direction of New York City. I don’t need it on this trip.
I’ll bring The Nudge with me instead, and we’ll enjoy the shimmer of that sequin dress under the spotlight together, for as long as it shines.
Learn more about LoveNotes! and BUY YOUR TICKET to help support the mission to raise money for the Manhattan Educational Opportunity Center’s Emergency Scholarship Fund at heatherchristiebooks.com.
