The Butterfly Effect, fate, and all things unseen

You've probably seen this trend circulating on socials about the butterfly effect, the invisible string theory, fate, or whatever you want to call it. I love reading all of the stories, and it had me thinking: 

How much of our lives is decided by fate? Luck? Butterflies?  

I landed my first film job the day I boldly walked across the quad of my university campus onto a film set. (Something was always filming on my campus--it had that Gothic building kind of vibe.) 

Change happens when you want it to. 

I walked up to a guy wearing a headset. His name was Siggy. Siggy was cool, all chaotic hair with the energy to match-- a little Kramer-esque but younger. I asked him for a job. He replied with an unimpressed 'no', but after a bit of persistence, he told me to come back tomorrow at six a.m. So, the next morning, I eagerly leapt out of bed at four-thirty, and let me tell you, I've never been so excited to wake up that early. 

And that was the beginning…

It would be nice to sit in a cafe and have a life-changing opportunity drift in on a breeze. Love that it happens to some people. Maybe I'm just not that lucky, or maybe I should start writing in cafes.

A story about fate. 

One suffocatingly hot summer, I was in New York with some friends. One is a singer, and she had an afternoon gig at a bar in the East Village, so we were on our way there, walking down First Avenue, when I ran smack into someone-- Carrie Bradshaw style--iced coffee splashed, setlist papers strewn everywhere.

By the time we finally untangled from each other, I realized it wasn't justsomeone. It was someone I knew. Someone I worked with. Someone I kissed once. (yes, just kissed, but it was a damn fine kiss.) And there he was, standing in front of me wearing the same look of surprise that I was because what were the odds of running into each other in NYC? 

(It turns out, the odds were pretty good, it's not THAT big.)

My friends bailed, inching closer to the end of the block the second they clocked that something was happening and left me standing there, arms full of soggy setlist papers. Cue the Heartstopper moment:

He asked if I'd meet him for a drink later. I said I'd try, and the anxiety over whether or not to accept his invitation tugged at my heart all day.

I said yes. 

He was already waiting out front when I stepped out of the cab, and he was dressed to impress. The place was cramped and packed, as places are in NYC, so we squeezed into some seats at the bar. The conversation was mostly pleasantries and playing catch-up, everything tinged with careful flirtation.

Then, out of the blue, he asked, “Do you believe in fate?”

My heart raced.

yes. maybe. I don't know.

The romantic in me appreciated the question given the context of the setting. Our meeting. That moment. I couldn't have written it better.

But, “no,” is what I answered with a world of certainty even though it rang a little hollow inside.

“How can you say that?” he said with a curious smirk. “We literally ran into each other. In New York!!!”

I'm not sure why I said it. Maybe because admitting fate meant admitting something bigger, like feelings. Maybe it felt dangerous, making a decision about feelings based on happenstance and a good dose of nostalgia. Fate can feel a little like an excuse. It makes me think of this meme:

Wouldn't have had the same effect if they ran into each other at ye olde market and Mr. Darcy played the fate card, now would it?

It's often the number one writing tip: Write actionable characters. 

But we also need to BE actionable humans. The butterfly needs to flap its wings. 

And maybe there is an invisible string, but it's actions that largely affect where that string leads…

… and why it sometimes unravels.

Real Talk: Writing Life

Has been… dismal. Disappointing. Disastrous? I've been so swamped with working on the book and the film that I haven't had much time to actually write.

But that's on an… upswing. I started a new thing-- an adult rom-com, (something Emily Henry-ish.) I'm not sure if it has legs yet, but I'm loving every second I spend with it, so that's got to count for something.

Edits for BLUE took up a considerable chunk of 2024. I read it so many times, it was hard to see the forest through the trees. Words become a blurry haze. I can easily recite Nick's opening monologue by heart and most of the first chapter.

The last thing I felt like doing after submitting an edit pass was more reading, so, I'd usually turn off my brain and reach for my Switch. Hello, Dreamlight Valley! Animal Crossing! Cozy gamers unite! Why am I so obsessed with furnishing fictional spaces?

Did you know that BLUE has an epilogue? I took it out of the book, but would love to share it after the release. I think you'll love it too. 

So for now, this other story is swelling in my heart, and that's what spills out when my fingers hit the keyboard. It's funny and awkward and might be the most me thing I've ever written. I think I'll follow it for a while and see where it goes.