the messenger

Are you a writer?

These were the four words that shook up my life. 5 syllables, 13 characters, one question.

Are you a writer?

This old man, who apparently came out of nowhere, stopped me in my tracks.

I was sitting in a Coffee Bean, typing away on my laptop and writing copy for my newest business when he approached me.

This man had no real reason to say anything to me. My headphones were in; I was in grind mode. Do not disturb.

Are you a writer?

It was as if he were staring into my soul. Who knew that with four words, someone could radically change your life, bring you back to yourself, move you in the right direction?

Are you a writer?

I was so shocked– I pulled out my headphones and looked up at him. “Well…”

I must have mumbled something about working on my website. He assumed I was working on a screenplay. Of course– television. Movies. The Industry. Of course, right, of course. I was working in Burbank–the true heart of Hollywood. Studios surrounded me. Writers. Why else would I be sitting in my black leather jacket, typing away at a Coffee Bean at 10pm on a weeknight?

The ironic thing was that the guy sitting next to me actually was working on a screenplay. I knew he was– I peeked over at his laptop and saw what he was working on.

Do I look like a writer, sitting here in my black leather jacket?

Are you a writer?

This man’s question moved me so deeply that I journaled about it for thirty minutes afterward. I couldn’t stop thinking or smiling about it even after then. I was so moved by his words that I’m putting my thoughts and emotions into letters and writing about this experience today, right now, in this moment.

Are you a writer?

My heart whispered, “Why, yes, my dream is to write novels that are turned into award-winning screenplays and multi-million dollar feature films–how did you know?”

My heart. It knew exactly what to say. Of course, of course, of course. Of course.

My mind, on the other hand, froze. I literally didn’t know how to answer him. Am I a writer?

That’s when I knew I needed to start writing again. That’s how I found one of the missing pieces I needed to come back to myself.



I knew it was God who prompted that elderly man to walk up to me and start talking to me, even though I was clearly sending the message that I wanted to focus on the task at hand, and ask me those four words. This man got up from the table he was sitting at with his friends and came straight to me–he didn’t stop to chat with me while he was buying a coffee, and he left the coffee shop soon after our encounter. The experience was so bizarre, I knew it was God who told this man to say those four words to me. He knew it would make me cry. He knew it would remind me of the dreams He placed in my heart. He knew it would make me focus on them again. He knew it would make me move beyond my limiting beliefs. He knew I needed to write, again.


written on june 20th, 2018.


where she writes do i look like a writer