The Ringing Truth: A Call That Changed Everything

That phone call happened on a sticky summer afternoon in East Nashville, the kind where the cicadas hummed louder than the air conditioner struggling in the background. I was 22, fresh out of Vanderbilt, armed with a degree in English, a notebook full of half-finished lyrics, and absolutely no clue what came next. Like a lot of people in their early twenties, I was suspended somewhere between the shiny optimism of my dreams and the dread of actually figuring out how to make them happen. Would I be a novelist? A songwriter? A wandering folk singer with a guitar strapped to my back? Spoiler: the wandering thing was unlikely—I hate camping.

And then my phone rang.

I never answer unknown numbers (who does these days?), so my thumb hovered over "Ignore." But something—call it intuition or sheer boredom from editing yet another cover letter—made me pick up.

“Hey, Savannah. This is Mitch.”

Mitch, as it turned out, was a producer I’d met months earlier at a friend-of-a-friend’s open mic night down on Broadway. He’d seen me stumble through a shaky performance of an original song and scrawl my number on a napkin. I had written the entire meeting off as one of those Music City pipe dreams people politely nod about, like saying you’re best friends with someone who knows Dolly Parton. Yet here he was, asking if I’d like to co-write for a small project he was working on.

In hindsight, my first response was embarrassing. After a pause long enough for him to wonder if the call had dropped, I said: “Are you sure you meant to call me?”

The Yes That Changed the Game

That phone call wasn’t a record deal or a signing bonus—it wasn’t even a paying gig. It was a chance to sit in a room with other writers and try to craft songs for an obscure regional bluegrass album. “Low stakes” would’ve been an upgrade. But here’s the thing: saying yes to Mitch’s call was about more than a single opportunity. It was about deciding I was ready to answer the call—literally and figuratively.

It’s funny how saying yes to one thing can set off a domino effect. That one tiny commitment? It spiraled into a collaboration that taught me how to treat writing like a craft, not just a hobby. I learned how to write every day, even if the muse was taking her sweet time. I learned how to take constructive criticism without resorting to melodramatic journal entries. And, most importantly, I learned that even the smallest, weirdest opportunities can steer your life (or at least your GPS) toward where you’re supposed to go.

Good Calls Versus Time-Wasters: How to Tell the Difference

Now, I’ll be real here—answering every metaphorical (or literal) phone call won’t always lead to life-changing results. The trick is learning how to sniff out the ones that matter. Over the years, I developed a little checklist for how to figure out whether a “yes” is worth it, mostly inspired by that muggy Nashville afternoon and the lessons that followed. Here’s a quick guide:

  • Does It Align With Long-Term Goals? Mitch’s offer wasn’t glamorous, but it aligned with what I wanted: to tell stories, to write music, to learn. Saying yes felt like taking a first step down the right path—even if the scenery wasn’t much at first.

  • Does It Scare You (In a Good Way)?
    If your immediate reaction involves sweating through two shirts but also a weird buzz of excitement (think first-date nerves), it’s probably worth exploring. Growth lives right outside your comfort zone, y’all.

  • Are You Making the Decision Out of Guilt or Obligation?
    A productive “yes” should feel intentional, not like a resignation under pressure. Don’t answer the call just because you’re afraid of disappointing someone else—answer because there’s something in it for you.

Lessons Learned: Flipping the Script on Rejection

The funny thing about Mitch’s call is that nine out of ten people I share this story with want to know what happened afterward. Did the bluegrass songs we wrote become a breakout hit? Did my lyrics get nominated for a Grammy? To which the very anticlimactic answer is: Nope. The bluegrass album ended up collecting digital cobwebs somewhere on Spotify, and most of the tracks barely saw the light of day.

But here’s what did happen: I started to believe in the power of trying. Mitch didn’t call me because I was the best writer he knew (I wasn’t), or because he’d heard a smash hit in my shaky verses (he hadn’t). He called because he saw potential, and I trusted that potential enough to show up. Who knows what else I might’ve missed if I hadn’t?

Turning Calls Into Cornerstones

The Mitch chapter of my life faded after the project wrapped, but that summer kickstarted my career as a writer in ways I could never have scripted myself. The openness that grew from saying yes to Mitch led to writing workshops. Workshops led to boutique gigs crafting liner notes for indie artists. That turned into the confidence I needed to pitch storytelling articles to magazines like this one and, years later, realize I have plenty of narratives to spin about love, life, and everything in between.

Looking back, I realize that the most meaningful calls—whether they’re about careers, relationships, or major life changes—aren’t always fireworks on the horizon. Sometimes, they’re small, deliberate sparks, smoldering into something brighter after you’ve worked to kindle them. Mitch’s call didn’t offer a direct line to fame and fortune, but it connected me to something that mattered. And isn’t that what every great call, romantic or otherwise, is really about?

Welcome the Unexpected Calls in Life

Here’s my advice, from one over-thinker to another: Don’t agonize over whether every single call, opportunity, or invitation will be “The One.” Sometimes, you just have to pick up the phone (metaphorically or literally) and see where it takes you.

And if you’re like the old me, timidly hovering over the ignore button of life, let me save you some drama: trust the call. Lean into it. Know that even if it doesn’t lead where you thought it would, you’ll still walk away braver, better, and with a story to tell.

Oh, and one last piece of advice from a girl raised on Southern aphorisms: If the journey still feels a little unclear, at least pack snacks for the ride. You’ll thank me later.