『Ep.111-Why I Finally Wrote You Are A Mess, But So Is The Universe』のカバーアート

Ep.111-Why I Finally Wrote You Are A Mess, But So Is The Universe

Ep.111-Why I Finally Wrote You Are A Mess, But So Is The Universe

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 You Are A Mess, But So Is The Universe — The Story I Had to Tell Some stories don’t politely ask to be written—they hunt you down. Mine followed me around for years on a single yellow Post-it note that said just three words: Write the book. It was taped to my laptop, my planner, my fridge, even a random kitchen cabinet during a move. It survived rebrands, motherhood, burnout, and a thousand other seasons. I avoided it, argued with it, moved it… but I never threw it away. For years, I told myself I would write it when life slowed down, when I felt more ready, when I had more time, when inspiration struck, when I knew exactly what I wanted to say. But here’s the thing about waiting for perfect conditions: they don’t exist. Life doesn’t slow down. Confidence doesn’t magically appear. And clarity? That shows up once you start—not before. I started this book at least five times. I have the abandoned Google Docs to prove it. Each version reached about 20 pages before I’d talk myself out of continuing: “This isn’t the right time.” “Who do you think you are writing a book?” “Maybe later.” That Post-it became both a reminder and a quiet weight. Every time I saw it, I could feel the gap between who I was—and who I knew I wanted to become. The Lie I Told Myself This year, I finally decided to get rid of the Post-it—not by finishing the book, but by declaring: I’m not writing it. I said it out loud. Firm. Final. No more mental pressure. No more nagging reminder. No more book. Founder and CEO of Dandelion-Inc And that’s when it happened—the most unexpected thing. By telling myself no, I sparked something I didn’t see coming. It woke up a quiet fire inside me—the part of me that will run through walls if someone doubts me. Even if that someone is… me. Suddenly, I wasn’t avoiding the book anymore—I was being provoked by it. The Flood I didn’t begin writing this book—I exploded into it. I wrote 70,000 words in two weeks. Not at a cozy writing retreat. Not during a sabbatical. Not with a carefully color-coded outline. I wrote: In my car before sunrise In the notes app between meetings During lacrosse practice At 5 a.m. with reheated coffee In emotional avalanches I couldn’t outrun The words didn’t trickle. They crashed through. And for the first time in my life, I understood what writers mean when they say the book chose me. Asking for Help (The Hardest Part) What I had was raw. Unfiltered. Real. But it wasn’t a book yet. It was a mountain. So I did something my ego resisted: I asked for help. I hired a developmental editor—Elise Smith from Wordy Wives (and yes, she’ll be joining me on the podcast soon). She didn’t just edit my work—she challenged it. She stretched it. She asked for more truth, more intention, more courage. I cut chapters I swore I loved. I rewrote entire sections—twice. Then three times. I clarified ideas I thought were obvious. I faced the stories I had been avoiding. I wrote through resistance I didn’t know I still carried. This wasn’t editing—it was becoming. What This Book Is Really About Despite the title, this is not a book about being broken. It’s about becoming. It’s about what it looks like to evolve while still healing. It’s about building a life while you’re still fixing parts of it. It’s about growth that doesn’t fit into an inspirational quote. Lisa Resnick gets real about writing her forst book. This book goes where women silently live: When you’re outgrowing the life you built When success scares you more than failure When friendships shift and loyalty gets tested When you want more—but also want peace When you’re brave but still scared It isn’t self-help. It isn’t polished. It isn’t perfect. It’s honest. Why I Wrote It Anyway Was I terrified? Absolutely. I still am. I worried: What if it isn’t good enough? What if people judge me?
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