I’ve been noticing smells a lot lately. The must of water from the earth when the sprinklers turn on, the richness of redwood foliage piled upon itself in the groves, the sweet, distinct scent of my cat’s fur when I burrow in her to kiss her, the skin and hair of my ex-lover, the citronella candle at dusk.

Scent has never been my strongest sense. I often joke that my nose is terrible, and then I fear affirming that. Especially after recent world events, I am grateful for what my nose can do. Life has been heavy lately. The damp redwood sheddings, melted wax, and water weighed on me. The beauty that shows up in the world even in life’s darkest and most confusing moments. Maybe I just feel more clear, more alive, even in my grief.

In the middle of the weight, there’s a moment of bliss. An affirmation from the universe, a right-on-time reminder to get back to what I feel I’m meant to do. I’ve been nominated for the 2022 James Kirkwood Prize in Creative Writing at UCLA Extension.

When I started Novel 1 in October of 2020, it was like I was starting my first day of Kindergarten. I hadn’t been in an official class for something I love doing since 2012. I said for years after graduating college how much I missed school, despite never taking the plunge for grad school. Novel 1 was my testing of the waters, and I was the best student I’d ever been. I did every assignment; I prioritized all assignments above my day job. I felt like I had direction again in a time when I had felt like I had none for a while.

Around two years before this class, I landed my “dream job.” Of course, it wasn’t my dream job. It was office administration. But it was office administration at an official publishing company. So I’d do whatever they wanted; I was just thrilled to have my foot in the door. But after budget cuts also cut my job, I was devastated. Feeling worthless and directionless after so many windy roads in what I was attempting to make my career.

But soon after, I found love. And it wasn’t just any love, he was The One, I knew it. I just knew it. It was the best distraction from losing a job that anyone could ask for––a bucket of hope in the pool of hopelessness. I wasn’t useless, directionless. I had passion, and it was right here, right in front of me! With someone standing by me, surely we could conquer all, but together versus apart, which is certainly a better way to move in the world.

Right?

I was unemployed for months, but who cared? I was in love! We moved too fast, and I didn’t care; we had the rest of our lives to slow down and enjoy. We still enjoyed each other. To step out of my storytelling for a moment, I don’t regret a moment of it, only one foolish thing I let him do that I wish I hadn’t, for his sake.

I finally needed a job, and I reluctantly took a restaurant job. After applying for months, it was all I could find. But then I found something better within 6 months, and I was on the road back to recovery. Back to something. I was fine, really, because I had love.

I’ve kept some kind of creative activity going for nearly the last 14 years, some successful, some not––everything a lesson. Novel 1 brought me so much joy between my teacher and my classmates (whom I still keep in touch with) that I felt fulfillment creatively for the first time in a long time. I only had 20 pages of a novel, but I came out of that class with so much more.

When I enrolled in Novel 2, I never thought of prize nominations. I just wanted to keep writing, connecting with other writers, and learning from the best. I had almost no expectations, I just knew I’d have a great time, and I did. I came out with another cohort of amazing people I still keep in touch with, with almost 1/3 of a novel, feeling invigorated again. But I didn’t see this coming, especially not when it did.

I don’t know where I’m going through this. I’m grieving, but the news of my nomination blew me away. I burst into tears and felt some of the weight lifted. I was reminded of who I am. It’s not that it means I’m a published author with a best-selling book, but it’s a win. It’s a reminder, an affirmation. I don’t mean to sound cheesy or dramatic, but I’ve spent most of my life toning it down for others, hiding away out of fear of judgment. If you’ve followed me online, you probably don’t see that truth, but the internet (LiveJournal, Tumblr, Myspace, etc.) was my haven––the place I could express all kinds of sides to myself, and if the judgment was there, I didn’t see it, and it didn’t matter. Although at times, I felt that too.

Rarely do I celebrate myself or my accomplishments. My therapist constantly has to remind me not to be so hard on myself, to acknowledge when I’ve succeeded or done something to the best of my ability. I’m allowed to celebrate myself, and so are you. Do I hope to win? Of course, I do. But as the email says, “To receive a nomination is a tremendous honor and vote of confidence in your progress as a writer. Regardless of the competition’s outcome, I hope this news invigorates you and your dedication to your work.”

No matter what happens, I will remember what this nomination means. This is just the beginning. I feel self-conscious even writing this or possibly publishing it. I don’t want anyone to see this as self-indulgent or pretentious. I don’t consider myself particularly successful yet, but many successful people are cagey about where they started or how they got where they are. It’s a lot of failures, a lot of heartbreak, and a lot of life lessons all meshed together because our work is also our life, and our life is truly our work––the way we live it, who we share it with, what we do with it. Relationship failure is its own special grief that I’m at the beginning of processing now––a whole new level of it. I don’t recommend it, but I know we can’t avoid it either.

There is so much more that has failed, that I am grieving, than what I even shared here. Those who know, know. Some grief never goes away I’m learning (what feels like very late). But there is also so much to be grateful for, so much good that has happened, and I look forward to focusing on those things again sometime soon.

If I’m going to fail, and I’m going to fail as much as I succeed probably for the rest of my life––I just hope I fail upwards.

Icon Photo by Casey Horner on Unsplash