There’s a moment we all dread: your phone buzzes unexpectedly, your heart leaps, and at the back of your mind, you wonder—good news, bad news, or an unverified number offering duct cleaning? For me, it was none of the above. It was a call in the middle of an otherwise uneventful Tuesday afternoon, and it completely upended the compass of my life.

The Call: A Plot Twist Wrapped in Static

The caller ID flashed "Unknown," which usually means someone you definitely don’t know or someone about to change your life. I hesitated but answered anyway, braced for the sound of an auto-warranty scam. Instead, I heard a calm, slightly nervous voice:

"Hi, Willow? This is Sarah from RainStone Publishing. I’m calling about your submission."

My submission? It took a few seconds to register. Oh. My submission. The one I’d sent five months prior, submitting a collection of short stories. The one I’d assumed was now probably sitting at the bottom of a lost Google Drive folder, forgotten forever.

But no. This wasn’t a rejection call cloaked in professional politeness. She kept talking, and somewhere within the stream of words came the magical line: “We’d like to move forward with publishing your collection.”

Cue me frozen on the couch, holding my phone like it was made of lava while trying to sound like a calm, functioning adult. Inside, though? Fireworks. A full marching band. An inner monologue entirely set to the chorus of Beyoncé’s "Run the World (Girls)."

It wasn’t just the news itself that set my life in motion. It was realizing that someone outside my usual circle was willing to bet on me. It was someone validating the dream I’d been unsure I could claim as my own.

From Skepticism to Self-Belief: The Pre-Call Doubts

To understand why this call was so life-shifting, let me rewind a bit. Writers, especially ones just starting out, carry a specific brand of existential dread summed up as: Am I good enough? Or worse, Does this even matter?

For years, my writing had been relegated to café napkins or late-night Google Docs sessions, filed away under, “Maybe someday.” Growing up in Vancouver, a city of dreamers and doers, I’d always been surrounded by people with passions as vast as our Pacific skies. A barista at my parents' café? Turns out, also a poet who self-published three chapbooks. The guy sitting next to me on Kits Beach? An environmental activist working on his first documentary. Vancouver thrives on creativity and ambition—and yet, that can also be intimidating when you’re stuck wondering if your voice belongs in that chorus.

If I’m being honest, part of the fear came from comparing myself to others. (Big mistake, by the way. Comparison is a joy thief. Resist at all costs.) The other part? Not trusting that the stories I had to tell—set in rain-soaked neighborhoods and borrowed from eateries where Vietnamese, Cantonese, and Persian food menus overlapped—were worth reading. I wondered if these slices of life would resonate with anyone outside my bubble.

But here’s the kicker: so much of the confidence we seek doesn’t come from the mirror or even the quality of our work; it comes from someone saying, “I see you, and you’re enough.”

Why We All Need A Life-Changing “Call”

Okay, maybe your life-altering call won’t come from a publishing house. It might come from a new job opportunity, a friend who encourages you to take an unexpected leap, or even—plot twist—a middle-of-the-night discussion with your crush that changes how you see love. The thing is: these "calls" aren’t always literal. But they’re almost always a request to leave your comfort zone.

Looking back on that afternoon, I realize the call wasn’t someone crowning me an author overnight. It was an invitation. A nudge to step into the version of myself I’d always wanted to be but had quietly been tucking away out of fear.

Here’s what I suspect might ring true for you, too:

  • Validation matters. Whether it’s from a boss, a romantic partner, or even a stranger, we thrive when someone says, "This thing you’re doing? It’s valuable. Keep going."
  • Taking the first step is the hard part. Submitting that manuscript was terrifying. Equal parts hope and dread filled my inbox for months—but that first act of courage matters. You can’t get a "yes" without risking a "no."
  • The call can come when you least expect it. Literal or metaphorical, life’s surprises often show up when your expectations are at their quietest.

Practical Lessons for Your Own Plot Twist

Want to make room for your own transformative moment? Here’s what I learned:

  1. Say yes to small risks. Sometimes that looks like sending an email, pitching yourself, or texting a crush (yes, even if you pacing the floor for hours before hitting “send”). Big changes start with small actions.

  2. Celebrate the tiny wins. Did you finish a first draft? Or even write the first chapter? Book a dance class? Take yourself on a date? Honor that—it might be a step toward discovering something bigger.

  3. Let yourself be terrible. I hated at least 30% of the drafts in my submitted manuscript. But as someone wise probably said, "You can’t edit a blank page." Start somewhere, imperfections and all.

  4. Be open, not attached. Sending that manuscript out? I fully expected rejection. By loosening my grip on the outcome—a lesson I learned from the Pacific waves in Tofino—I could focus on the joy of simply trying.

Where the Call Led Me (And Why I’m Still Answering)

So, what happened after that life’s-a-movie moment? As you can probably guess, my short story collection released a year later. I wore an outfit entirely overdressed for a launch party where I cried, hugged friends and strangers, and ate five pieces of cake because why not.

But what really stayed with me wasn’t the event or even the book on a physical shelf. It was knowing that one call not only shifted my career but my way of thinking about myself. You don’t have to wait for someone to call you a writer—or whatever title you’re hoping to claim. You simply have to start answering.

And if you’re lucky? You’ll get those unexpected moments when someone helps you see yourself more clearly.

This is your sign to take that risk, make that call, send that email—because on the other side, someone is out there waiting to tell you: You’re enough.