A Question Worth Asking...

Or a question worth a long stay in a mountain cabin where I can come to terms with my sadness and dashed dreams.

Question currently under discussion: "But Andrea, what if you don't ever become a published author?"

Well. Stab me next time. It'll hurt significantly less.

But...what if? Really. What if it doesn't happen? That's not even a bitchy question (though I think I did mutter bitch as I slung a pillow across the room.) It is a perfectly viable, logical question. That doesn't mean I have to enjoy accepting the viability and logic of it. I just have to get on with the business of accepting it.

Honestly, I had no answer. I have no answer. I don't enjoy indulging in that kind of 'what if' game. I had the importance of "what if" reintroduced to me after I read this blog post. These are two of the most essential words in a writers' vocabulary. Seriously, think about it for a second. Every novel that's ever been penned had to begin with a 'what if.' It could have been the author's what if I try to write a novel, or the what if that necessarily comes with pulling people who don't exist out of your mind and giving them life and breath and substance. Either way, that two word question always plays into the bleeding of words onto paper.

Sometimes the what if gives birth to the writing and sometimes, I just realized tonight, it does the exact opposite. It's hard to come to terms with. How have I reached this point in my life and career and never given into wondering what if...it doesn't happen? It seems mildly curious to think back and see I've never actually doubted my eventual success.

And that's a little terrifying. And probably unaccountably arrogant.

A theme explored in my novel Balloon Girl is that of fate versus chance. I believe that things do happen for a particular reason. I always have. That makes this little what if debacle a lot harder. I've always believed you can't fight what's meant to happen. Which, I suppose, means I could write a fantastic novel, do everything in my power to see it published, but if it's not meant to happen...

So that brings the discussion away from what if I'm never a published author and swings it toward what if I'm not meant to be a published author. And see, that's harder. That's something I can barely stand to consider.

And yet. Yet, I find myself thinking what if from the other side of the question. What if I am meant to be a published author?

Flip the question and it suddenly becomes less terrifying and more comforting. If it's meant to happen, I can breathe a sigh of relief. The right agent will get the MS in their hands, then in their hearts; I will look back and see the path illuminated and suddenly every step that got me there will seem the most natural thing in the world.

I choose to think of what if as a positive.