What Happens When You Say Yes
A few years ago, I was one of the millions of people who read
’s Big Magic. In this creative manifesto, Gilbert shares many wise thoughts on creativity, fear, perfectionism, and, of course, magic.
I believe that our planet is inhabited not only by animals and plants and bacteria and viruses, but also by ideas. Ideas are a disembodied, energetic life-form. They are completely separate from us, but capable of interacting with us – albeit strangely. Ideas have no material body, but they do have consciousness, and they most certainly have will. Ideas are driven by a single impulse: to be made manifest. And the only way an idea can be made manifest in our world is through collaboration with a human partner. It is only through a human’s efforts that an idea can be escorted out of the ether and into the realm of the actual.
Therefore, ideas spend eternity swirling around us, searching for available and willing human partners. (I'm talking about all ideas here: artistic, scientific, industrial, commercial, ethical, religious, political.)
When an idea thinks it has found somebody – say, you – who might be able to bring it into the world, the idea will pay you a visit. It will try to get your attention. Mostly, you will not notice…The idea will try to wave you down (perhaps for a few moments; perhaps for a few months; perhaps even for a few years), but when it finally realizes that you’re oblivious to its message, it will move on to someone else.
I mean she had me with animals, plants, bacteria and viruses.
For months after reading the book, I kept my mind open, wondering when my idea would show up. (I pictured it looking like the beat-up angel that sat atop my childhood Christmas tree - a strange blend of Kate McKinnon’s Barbie character and a Precious Moments figurine.)
What I did not envision was a cantankerous, Jewish surgeon from Pittsburgh. But like George Bailey in It’s a Wonderful Life, I realized that like angels, you don’t always get to choose.
My husband, Todd, was less surprised that my idea took this form. I watched YouTube videos of Bernie at our kitchen counter while he cooked dinner one night. “That looks like the type of guy you would be interested in” Todd said looking over my shoulder as Bernie’s distinctive voice boomed from the screen.
Todd reminded me that I’d often come home from work and tell him that I would never leave him for a younger man…But an eighty-year-old farmer with prostate cancer and a steady supply of good hay? Well, I couldn’t make any promises.
Given all that Bernie had accomplished, I figured that someone MUST have written a book about Bernie already, so I looked searched for it online. Alas, nothing.
So, I reached out to journalists who covered his career, hoping that they were working on something. I spoke to Bernie’s colleagues who all agreed that this was an important story that needed to be told. But alas, no one wanted to tell it. You should write it, they all said. Me? I thought as I looked around for a much more qualified writer or historian.
At this point, fear kicked in and I turned away from the challenge. Who was *I* to write this book? And yet, time after time, I turned back.
What would one trip to the National Archives hurt, I thought as I completed the online background check and made an appointment as soon as it opened after being shut down for COVID.
What would ONE trip to Pittsburgh hurt, I thought as I arranged interviews and trips to the University of Pittsburgh archives?
After gathering all this, I sent a poorly organized and poorly written first draft of a manuscript to a friend who is an English professor. A few weeks later, she replied, “You must write this book!”
It was then that I realized that the second part of what Gilbert described was happening to me:
But sometimes – rarely, but magnificently – there comes a day when you’re open and relaxed enough to actually receive something. Your defenses might slacken and your anxieties might ease, and then magic can slip through. The idea, sensing your openness, will start to do its work on you. It will send the universal physical and emotional signals of inspiration (the chills up the arms, the hair standing up on the back of the neck, the nervous stomach, the buzzy thoughts, that feeling of falling into love or obsession). The idea will organize coincidences and portents to tumble across your path, to keep your interest keen. You will start to notice all sorts of signs pointing you towards the idea. Everything you see and touch and do will remind you of the idea. The idea will wake you up in the middle of the night and distract you from your everyday routine. The idea will not leave you alone until it has your fullest attention.
And then, in a quiet moment, it will ask, “Do you want to work with me?”
I realized that my answer was an emphatic “yes.” This marked the next phase of the relationship with my idea. Gilbert describes it this way:
Now your job becomes both simple and difficult. You have officially entered into a contract with inspiration, and you must try to see it through, all the way to its impossible-to-predict outcome.
The result of that “yes” is a manuscript (that is still a work in progress but open to any agents who might be reading!) AND this podcast, Less Radical.
After reviewing several “How To” videos on podcast production, I realized quickly that I was not going to be able to do this alone. I reached out to the fantastic team at Yellow Armadillo studios and was ecstatic when Melody agreed to join #TeamFisher. The Yellow Armadillo team’s experience producing award winning podcasts, partnering with highly successful Substack authors, and launching brilliant public radio shows convinced me that they were the right people to help bring this story to life in an audio form.
But their passion is what really got me. They fell in love with Bernie almost as much as me!
So, we’ve been working on this podcast for the past nine months. Researching, interviewing, brainstorming, writing, reviewing, re-writing, fact-checking, re-writing AGAIN, recording, reviewing, re-recording, and so on. All in partnership with the idea of telling Bernie’s story.
I’m so proud that I said “yes” four years ago when the idea of Bernie paid me a visit and refused to leave. I hope that after you listen next week that his story will stay with you. And maybe prompt you to look around for the idea that’s trying to get your attention.
I am so happy you said YES!!