One Stone Heart at a Time.

Turning 40 is weird. 

No one really warns you what it’ll feel like, and I guess that’s a good thing. Lord knows I don’t want to tell my six-year-old that she can expect to wake up one morning only to find a wrinkle above her left eyelid, four gray hairs, and a digestive system that suddenly decides survival depends entirely on leafy greens and kombucha. (Okay, so this is a bit dramatic, but ugh, just the occasional scoop of ice cream would be nice.) 

But beyond the physical, the mental is way harsher. 

Did I accomplish what I thought I would at 40? Why does it feel like everyone else has their ish together when I’m floundering on mom Island? Shouldn’t I feel like more of an adult by now? And wait. In 40 more years, I’ll be… EIGHTY?

And so, as I prepare to launch into one of the scariest adventures of my life at nearly 40 — releasing a young adult novel into the world to be read and judged by actual strangers — I find myself wondering… am I insane? 

To answer this completely reasonable question, I decided to follow the theme of my own novel and consult the signs.
Yes, the actual signs. From the universe. Or God. Or probably even Taylor Swift. Over the last few years, I’ve been into this whole phenomenon — looking for signs when I need a little life feedback. Should I buy the trendy barrel jeans, or will I resemble an Oompa Loompa? Coffee or tea? Should I ask the cool mom at my kid’s school to be friends? Not entirely life-changing things. But today, with the publication date for my debut novel, Lavender, inching closer (July 15. Go ahead, I’ll wait while you add it to your calendar), I sent up a little prayer: Am I really meant to release this book into the world? And if so… could you maybe send me a sign or two? More specifically, I asked for a heart. It felt fitting — it’s a major symbol in the story, and also, frankly, the thing I poured into every single page.

And, guess what? 

I received four. Yep, four. One for every gray hair. 

They came in stones. Heart stones. 

We’re spending some slow, salty days in Rhode Island, and this afternoon, while my husband and boys fished off the jetty, my daughter and I wandered the beach in search of paint-worthy rocks. That’s when I spotted the first one. Small, pink, and a little shy in its shape — but a heart, no doubt. I smiled. Felt seen. Okay… maybe this whole “signs” thing is actually working for this major life event. Just then, my daughter shouted, “Mommy, look. There’s another one!” Indeed, only a foot from where we found the first, another came into view. This one was smaller and more defined. “Yep, baby girl. That sure is a heart.” My smile got deeper, my chest even lighter. Moments later, a gray one peeked through the sand; a beauty. No denying the heart shape. And then, as we were mere inches back to our chairs, and as I was thanking God, the uni and Tay, the big kahuna came into my field of vision. Big. Bold. DUSTY ROSE PINK. If you read Lavender, you’ll understand exactly how much that color means.

Maybe it is a common thing. I mean, I’ve never actually looked for heart-shaped stones before. You might have a jar full of them at home.

Or maybe it was just a coincidence. 

But I believe it was something bigger communicating with me. And that’s what matters. That’s all life is anyway; what we make it.

A few weeks before this, one of my favorite authors, Jedidiah Jenkins, recently shared how Cheryl Strayed changed the course of his career. He was set on self-publishing when she convinced him to take another path.

I happened to be reading his post at the exact moment I was about submit my manuscript on a self-publishing platform. I immediately messaged him and told him he may have just ruined my life.

He replied:
“Self-publishing can be amazing. Or it can be safe and avoidant. It’s all about interrogating yourself—your motives, your fears, your options. And then moving bravely. Self-publishing might be the perfect right move.”

And he’s right.
It forced me to pause and look inward.
What do I really want?

The answer came quickly: I want this story to be out in the world—now. I believe it will resonate with anyone who is going through hard things. If it lifts someone’s day or gives them inspiration, a reason to keep going, that’s everything to me.

Could I wait years to land an agent, sell the book, and get through the publishing process? Sure. But this story matters now. 

I’ve done the research. I’ve put in the time.
And for me, right now, self-publishing is the brave move.

It won’t be easy. It’ll take work to get my name out there. But I’m ready.

So I guess what I’m trying to say is this:
Do the damn thing.

Whether you’re 14 or 40.

It’s never too early or too late. Who cares what people will think. Who cares if it succeeds or it fails. It’s all experience. It’s all fun with the right perspective. Do it for you. Be brave. And trust in the signs. One stone heart at a time.