The Day the Universe Winked at Me
By JJ Elliott
Fully stocked shelves at Zibby’s Bookshop in Santa Monica, CaliforniaIn 1990, when I was 17 years old, my mother died by suicide. To say that I was unmoored would be the world’s biggest understatement. I went from being a normal teenager to an independent young adult ravaged by grief, shame, and confusion. My father was dealing with fallout of his own, so I had to become a parent to both myself and my much younger sister. I bumped around blindly, trying to find moments of normalcy whenever possible. I remember feeling like I was two people—one that went about as if life was normal, and one that knew nothing would ever be normal again. There was truth in both identities.
While browsing a bookstore a few years after my mother’s death, I saw a title that cut through my fog of grief. Motherless Daughters by Hope Edelman. I bought it and immediately started reading. Out came the highlighters, pens, and Post-Its. Decades later, that same hardback book sits on my bookshelf, dog-eared, tear-stained, and well-loved. It was my lodestar for many years until, through therapy and time, I was able to provide one for myself. I’d considered writing Hope Edelman so many times to tell her how much her book meant to me, but, of course, I never did.
Years later, I was racing through the San Francisco airport to catch a flight. I was by myself, which was unusual because I had young kids at the time. But this meant that I could read a book uninterrupted on my flight, a rare pleasure. At Compass Books in the airport, I quickly grabbed a title off the shelf because I liked the cover. It turned out to be This Is Not the Story You Think It Is by Laura Munson.
I devoured that book. It was her story, yes, which is powerful, but it was also her voice. It was clear as a bell, and I wanted more. I dove deep on the internet to find out more about Laura, which is when I discovered she held writing retreats in Montana. I took note.
I’ve always been a reader and a writer; it’s how I make sense of the world. When I wound up in advertising after college, I very quickly knew I wanted to be a copywriter. So, early in my 20s, my lifelong love became my actual bread and butter.
But when you start getting paid to do something you’ve always done for pure joy, things change. Writing became my how, not my why. I was writing to someone else’s specifications, creating messaging that had already been dictated. I enjoyed it immensely (and still do), because it felt like solving a puzzle. But that’s not the same as simply letting loose on the page.
Then an idea for a novel came to me out of the clear blue. Suddenly, I had characters, names, circumstances, even a setting. I had always said I would never write a book because I didn’t have any ideas. Well, shit. I no longer had that excuse. At the advice of my therapist, I started to write for joy again. I decided that I would give these characters the voices that they so demanded, if only for my own pure pleasure. I suffered through extreme imposter syndrome every time I sat down at my computer to write fiction. And then I remembered about Laura Munson’s Haven Writing Retreat. Maybe this would give me the confidence I desperately needed.
With the first 30 pages of my novel shaking in my clammy hands, I boarded a plane to Montana. I had scheduled a one-on-one edit with Laura, and on the first full day of the retreat, I sat down to hear what she thought. There was a colorful mobile of paper butterflies twirling behind her head. I could barely breathe.
“I never say this, JJ. But this is going to be a book and I am going to come to your book signing.”
I can’t remember if I laughed, cried, spit, or froze. We went on to talk more about the book; she had excellent insight and thoughts, but what I walked away with was something money can’t buy—belief that I could do this.
In the movie version of this story, here’s where I’d put the montage of many seasons passing while I sit in front of my computer writing, writing, writing. There would be tiny hotel rooms, dark wine bars, bustling coffee shops, retreats in the redwoods. My hair would change, at some point I would need glasses, my kids would grow inches and then feet while I typed away. The bottom line is—over many, many years—I did it. And my debut novel There Are No Rules for This is finally coming out in May. But the story doesn't end there.
I had always said I would never write a book because I didn’t have any ideas. Well, I no longer had that excuse. At the advice of my therapist, I started to write for joy again.
As the years passed, Laura became more of a friend and mentor to me. I still pinch myself that the woman who wrote one of my favorite books is on the short list of people I text when I need a laugh or a word of advice. Towards the end of January, I noticed that Laura was going to be in L.A. promoting her books at the opening of a new bookstore, Zibby’s Bookshop. How exciting! I figured I should fly down to see her and to support the bookstore. I booked my ticket and texted her right away. She said that she was going to put together an event afterwards with other authors. Win-win!
I decided to get to Zibby’s Bookshop early so I had time to look around and buy books before Laura’s signing. As I approached the store, I saw Laura outside talking with another woman. I decided to let her know I was there.
I placed my hand on Laura’s shoulder and leaned in, “I’ll see you inside.” Laura turned to me and said, “JJ! Perfect timing. I want you to meet Hope Edelman.”
All of the air left my body. I bent over, hands on my knees, and I’m sure Laura and Hope thought I was having a medical emergency. In truth, I was having a spiritual epiphany. (Apparently, they look the same.)
I stood up and said, “Hope Edelman. Hope Edelman! I lost my mom when I was 17 and…” Hope wrapped her arms around me. “That’s the same age I was when my mom died.” I was having an out-of-body experience standing there in the middle of the sidewalk. It was as if all the disparate parts of myself and separate identities fused back together in that moment. Daughter. Mother. Writer. Friend. It still feels like a fever dream.
But it wasn’t. I ended up spending more time with Hope and Laura, along with a handful of other inspirational women writers, over wine and bites and laughter for hours afterwards. We all came away feeling the sheer magic of community. Laura Munson has a gift for it. I have been one of many lucky recipients.
I texted Laura the next day: "YOU introducing me to HOPE EDELMAN is the most meta, universe-affirming thing that’s ever happened to me.
Laura texted back: “Sometimes, life is beautiful.”
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JJ Elliott writes constantly, thanks to her longtime job as a freelance copywriter. In that role, she has penned everything from national television ads to urinal stickers. There Are No Rules for This is her first novel. Elliott grew up in Northern California and recieved a degree in English from UCLA. She now lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband, two teenage kids and two poorly trained bulldogs. She loves to read, play tennis, drink wine, and eat cheese.