I remember when someone asked me, “So what is your plan B?” and I was quick to say, “There is no plan B.” That was one of my big ideas, at least ten years ago. And really, if there ever was a backup plan — it’s just this: get back up.
When I think about my choices in life — how hard-working and focused I was, blended with dreams of being a published author, letting all my talents come into play while I pursued my education and did what I wanted to do — one of the biggest moments for me was when I transferred to FIT.
I felt like I belonged. I wasn’t sure if I picked the right major in advertising, but it was really good. All the exposure, meeting new people, and meeting professors who all had different jobs outside of teaching — they were in the real-world industry. The possibilities seemed endless.
But once I got my degree, the ambition never went away. Life just went in different directions. I got different results, and here I am, still working in the in-between.
Creating. I was going to say waiting, but that’s not what it is. I’m open to it.
Somewhere along the line came the rejections. This book didn’t speak to us. This manuscript wasn’t the right fit. Then there were the scams — publishing, hybrid, you name it. Too many unfair moments to count.
And yet, this burning desire, this belief, that my writing will rise to the horizon — it never left.
Maybe you’re there too. Maybe you want to be a writer, or start a business, or something else. But somehow, life just gets in the way. It complicates things. It makes it messy.
It doesn’t fit neatly into where you are. It’s not yielding results that make you pack up and start a new life. Sometimes it just feels like crumbs — crumbs you can’t get enough of, but you also can’t throw away.
It can feel isolating, like you’re a big kid living in a world holding a stopwatch, asking, When are you going to grow up? When are you going to look for something with benefits and a pension and settle down?
Why I Refuse to Sell Out
I don’t have those moments often, but I have them enough. And every time, I remind myself: this makes me happy.
Sometimes the thought comes: Do I have to sell out? Do I have to go viral? Do I have to do something that takes away from me to get what I want?
Why can’t I just put on a mustard costume — no offense to anyone who does — and dance around? Why can’t I ignore my passions and just become what the world says is acceptable?
But something always tells me: you don’t have to do that. You could, if you wanted to. If you go that route, put the mustard costume on, most likely you’ll win likes, you’ll win followers, you’ll win entertaining people.
But my passion is ingrained with the characters. If they were real, they’d be like kids to me. Each one brings something. Each one mirrors a breakthrough in my life. They are testimonials, and when they connect, they really connect.
Even if no one claps, supports, or shares because I didn’t put on that mustard costume or get a cosign — I’ll leave this earth knowing that I did it, and I did it well.
The Power of Storytelling: They Call Me Ash
I remember my first Barnes & Noble signing in Long Island, November 2023. I was so excited. The weather was horrible — thunder and lightning like I’d never heard before.
At first, no one came. Three weeks of promotion, and the room was empty. I wanted to leave. My sister, the practical one, told me to wait.
And then, one boy walked up. He picked up They Call Me Ash, one of the books I had on the table that day. His mom stood there, shocked, saying, “He doesn’t like to read. He doesn’t enjoy it.”
But he didn’t put the book down. He listened as I read every word to him. I still remember how that felt.
By the end of the day, the room had shifted. Kids sat quietly, listening, eyes fixed on me as I read. Parents stood toward the back, leaning in, caught up in the rhythm of the story.
From one end of the room to the other, you could feel it — every face tuned in, the storm outside forgotten, as if the only thing that mattered in that moment was the story.
The Only Backup Plan Is to Get Back Up
So if you’re at a place where it feels like nothing is adding up, where the weight of it all presses down, remember this: life has a way of gathering people to the table.
It can look empty, then suddenly, it’s full. It creates a space where your voice belongs.
If you see a spark, if you feel excitement, say yes one more time. Do it in a way that silences the noise. Focus like nothing else matters. Wake up with gratitude because you’ve already won.
You’ve won against fear. You’ve won against distraction. You’re doing life on your terms, not by a manual someone else wrote. That is more than enough.
Life can hand you orange jelly beans, rainbow sprinkles, and perfectly scooped ice cream — but real life is messy. It twists, it turns, it makes you question if this is it.
That’s when you breathe. Inhale 1–2–3. Exhale 3–2–1. Relax. Smile it off, shrug it off, love it all off. And keep pushing.
This is not the time to doubt that you will make it. Because the truth is: you already are. Every time you choose what’s best for you, you’ve already won.
Author’s Note
Lesley D. Nurse is the author of How to Turn a Breakup into a Breakthrough and Move On Like a Boss, God Is Working on a Bigger Yes, The A to Z Guide to Joy, You’re Right, I Don’t Care, and the children’s books They Call Me Ash, The Tale of Greedy Reeby, and How Sunny Sees It.
Her works span personal development, resilience, and children’s storytelling — all rooted in courage, healing, and the belief that every voice matters.
You can explore her books here on Amazon.