Hi Friends,
This month I received an email that my literary agent, Roger Freet, had died. He was only 56. And he meant the world to me. I didn’t get to say thank you or goodbye. Thank you, and and see you soon, Roger.
I’d met him at the one and only literary event I’d ever attended that matched new authors with agents. I hadn’t written one word yet, but I sat down at a sort of speed-dating table with him. His eyes were mischievous and his mouth rested in a smile. Listening to my story, he signed me on the spot, despite my crying, repeating myself, and being weirdly bloated (?). He saw me and the work and wanted to be a part of walking us into the next chapter.
The last conversation we had was during covid. We’d spent over a year working on a 60-page proposal together, even bringing in a retired editor from Penguin to help me cross the finish line. I was doing my best, but my skull was a bowl of mashed potato brains. I’d come to the brutal fact that I simply could not manage my workload, school Noah at home, and finish the book proposal. It wasn’t a matter of working smarter, digging deeper, or adding caffeine. It was like asking someone to draw a square circle—impossible.
Here was my big chance to “become a writer,” a dream I’d put on hold since I was 18. Here I was represented by one of the biggest literary agencies in the country writing about a searing topic at the height of my own personal need for career security.
And I had to lay it down. I had to surrender the results of that decision. Maybe I would never finish the proposal. Maybe when I did it would be too late to make a splash. But it didn’t matter when I looked at Noah: Noah mattered. Our health mattered. Our life together mattered. The book would have to wait, maybe forever.
My son got all of me—the ragged pieces and the indestructible ones— for the next several years. And thank God the book didn’t happen then because covid was nothing compared to what chased its heels. (I can’t get into it right now, but it was in the direction of Speed meets Stranger Things.) When I close my eyes I can still feel the phantom motion of being trapped on a bomb-laden bus without brakes.
When I got up the courage to tell Roger I needed to table the proposal, I was prepared for disappointment and maybe anger to come through the phone. But Roger’s grace was as matter-of-fact as a mug. “Cat, take care of you and Noah, and we’ll pick the project up when you’re ready.” Years later, he hadn’t pressed me. He hadn’t dropped me. He just let me be and trusted the timing. Even, apparently, until his last day. He believed in me, in the mission, and in the plan that quietly weaves us all forward.
As you know, I’d set a goal to finish the book proposal by the end of March… before I knew about Roger passing. I didn’t know where this would leave the project, and it felt gross to even think about that in the midst of the loss of this incredible man. But it also felt like completing it would be a way to honor him and his investment in me and Noah.
I was so lucky to talk to the head of the literary agency last week, who was enthusiastic about carrying the project forward. May 1st I’m sending him the revised google doc. It’s no longer impossible for me to complete: Noah is miraculously strong, and after escaping the bus ride through hell, I am more or less eating cupcakes and dancing around in the woods. I still don’t know if it’s “too late” for the book—so many people have rushed into the connection and belonging space now. But I owe it to myself, to Noah, and to Roger to see the proposal through. To do what I now can… and once again, surrender the results.
Maybe you’ve also had to make a distressing choice to bypass “an opportunity” for the sake of your own health or someone else’s. Maybe you had to put a dream on layaway and invest nickel by nickel over years instead of pouring your energy into it full-time. Or maybe the version you’re able to say yes to given your context pales in comparison to what you know is possible. This all hurts. But you’re not doing something wrong. You’re doing what you can. And you’re in the company of so many of us who are every day making those unseen, unglamorous, but bedrock choices.
My mentor used to say that what we get out of this life is the kind of person we become. I’m trusting that doing what we can and surrendering the results at every turn will work us all into something much nicer than award-winning go-getters. I think it’ll turn us into hearths. God, I sure hope that all this pain and all these dreams deferred will allow someone else to slow down and get warm in their own midnights.
Sending love,
Cat
Here, I made this for you. :)
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DIY Swaps - Socializing doesn’t have to cost money. In fact, it can save you money! Consider self-organizing a seasonal swap among friends, acquaintances, neighbors, etc. I’ve been part of a women’s clothing swap circle for several years, and its been a bright light amongst so much societal chaos.
Gather 3-20 people at someone’s house for ~ 2 hours.
People can bring potluck snacks.
Whatever isn’t taken can be donated to a local charity.
Updates!
Noah has turned into a crazy artist, and I’m looking to match him up this summer with some working artists who can show him a behind-the-scenes of their world, if you know of anyone who might be excited to help him out. Here is… Ceasar Chavez!
Your Brain on Altruism by my friend and colleague, Nicole Karlis, is rippling goodness into the world! Last year Nicole visited me at USC to participate in some random acts of belonging, which are catalogued in chapter 9’s, “Why Mattering Matters.”
So proud of the students at Rochester Institute of Technology who launched a pilot project last week called, “Games Can Help.” For a year now, their leader, Sam Kinsman, and I were exploring the spirituality of gaming and were able to work with a student who wanted to spearhead the effort to build social and mental health on campus in a wildly unique way. The project involved a student symphony playing video game music and multiple rooms with console gaming, dungeons + dragons, card games, etc. I even learned how to use discord, haha. Way to go, guys! (They made this campus map below, mind blown.)
Round-up!
Belong Center’s National Social Connection Corp + Belong Circles
25 Innovators/Projects fostering connection by Allison Gilbert’s Reimagine platform
John O’Donahue’s Anam Cara - $1 for the audiobook! Deepest book on friendship I’ve found.