Look Left
when the door doesn’t open…
…the direction is never back!
This is a follow-up to my previous article, Blog 003 — Crickets. If you haven't read it, the short version is this: I submitted my book proposal to a major self-help publisher as part of a writing contest, and then I waited. And waited. The way you wait when you've put something real into the world and you genuinely don't know what's coming back.
The announcement came. A winner. Two runners-up. Eight or so honorable mentions. Somewhere between eleven and fifteen names, total.
Mine wasn't one of them.
I want to be clear about what happened in the days that followed, because I think it might mirror something you've been through before, or might be going through right now. I felt the hell out of it. I'm not going to sit here and tell you I was fine. There was a sting. Not devastation, I know the difference between those two things by now; but a sting, yes.
And then, after a few days, something shifted. The sting didn't disappear. It just... stopped being the loudest damn thing in my head.
A brief observation, and then we move on
Personal Development and Self-Help is a genre that is gaining more speed from female authors. The contest results reflected that. Of the eleven to fifteen people recognized across all categories, not one was a man. Not one. And while I believe this to be a wonderful trend overall, it does raise a real concern that men on the fence of diving into their own personal development might feel like they don't have as many relatable voices in the room.
I'm not saying that's wrong. I'm saying it's data.
And that data points directly to a gap I'm here to fill. A grounded, sober, spiritually-connected male voice in a space that feels like it's losing them. That's not a grievance. That's a market reality, and honestly, it's the clearest confirmation I've received yet that my book and my voice belongs in this conversation.
Alright then, moving on.
What I did after submitting, and why
I have not said this publicly until now: after I submitted the proposal, I deliberately did nothing with it. Not because I gave up. Not because I was afraid to follow through. I put it down because I had spent everything I had getting it to that point, and I needed to breathe. The personal research I had to do to bring this book to life meant digging into my past, and while it was a bit therapeutic, it was also exhausting and quite painful at times.
So again, I had to breathe.
There’s a practice I’ve been living for about a year now. It’s the practice of releasing what you care about; you do your part, you bring it to the door, and then you open your hands. You don’t white-knuckle the outcome. You just tell the Universe you’re a ‘yes’ for whatever is best for your higher self and that of others.
Easier said than done, right? Yeah. I know.
But now I know that space between effort and outcome isn't empty. Something is happening in there, even when you can't see it. The contest result wasn't the Universe's verdict on my book. Not at all. It was simply one door that didn't open. And in my experience, and probably yours too, a door that doesn’t open almost always means: look left.
The question that changes everything
When something doesn't go the way we planned, most of us ask the same question: why is this happening to me?
It's a natural question, sure. It's also the question that keeps us stuck.
The shift, and I mean something real that you can apply today, is moving from "why is this happening to me?" to "what is this showing me?"
Those aren't the same question. The first one positions you as a victim of circumstance. The second positions you as a student. And it turns out the Universe is a pretty extraordinary teacher when you stop fighting the curriculum. Not so easy, I get it.
Here's how the old thinking plays out compared to the reframe:
Obstacle = the Universe has abandoned me
Detour = I'm doing something wrong
Delay = I'm being punished
And here's the reframe:
Obstacle = divine course correction in progress
Detour = protection from the wrong path, or preparation for the right one
Delay = perfect timing I don't yet understand
I want to be careful here, because this kind of reframe can tip into what some call spiritual bypassing, where pretending everything is fine when it’s not, and slapping a positive spin on real pain. That’s not what this is.
This isn't about pretending the discomfort isn't there. You still feel it, of course. The frustration is fucking real, let's be honest. The uncertainty is real too. What changes is that you stop adding a storyline that the discomfort means you're failing. Sometimes discomfort is just the friction of changing direction. Ever watch a dog change direction real fast, slip and bust their ass? What do they do? They just get up and keep going without even being embarrassed about it. I love that.
Uncomfortable is not the same as unsafe.
This is one of the most important things I've had to learn—and relearn—and then relearn again.
When I got that announcement and my name wasn't on it, I had to sit down and honestly ask myself: am I in danger right now? Is something actually broken? Or am I just uncomfortable?
The answer, if I'm honest, was uncomfortable. Not unsafe or broken. Simply, uncomfortable.
Those two things can feel identical in the moment. Yes, that is true. And that's the trap. When anxiety is running the show, "this is disappointing" and "this is a disaster" register at the same freaking emotional volume. Learning to tell them apart is a skill, and it's one worth developing.
I think about it like a camera; specifically, like focusing a telephoto lens (which you’ll hear me reference often, because this is the language through which I teach). When you’re locked onto the wrong focal point, the actual subject is blurry. Sometimes it's a matter of taking life off auto-focus and making a deliberate choice about where to place your attention.
The writing contest not working out was blur in one lens. But over here on this blog, on this platform, in this conversation we’re building together… the focus is clear.
My evidence file, and yours.
One of the most useful practices I've picked up is what I call building a retroactive evidence file. Before you can trust that an obstacle is a redirection, it helps to have proof that it's happened before.
I've got two big examples from my own recent history.
The first is a breakup. A while back, a relationship ended, not on my terms. It hurt like hell. But that ending was the thing that finally gave me the push I needed to leave a living situation I had stayed in too long, move to downtown Charleston, and begin doing the inner work that eventually led to everything I'm building now. The relationship ending didn't derail my path. It was my path.
The second is happening right now. I'm struggling to get graphic design work. I try. I apply. I wait. Nothing. It feels like failure. What I know is that it isn't failure, it's protecting my personal time. These are the months when I wrote a 50,000-word manuscript from scratch, put it through five rounds of editing, built this platform, and started writing these blogs. The Universe isn't ignoring my career. It's clearing the runway.
I wouldn't change either of those things for shit. And while I am still on the hunt for reliable graphic design income, I know the Universe has its reasons. I’m listening.
Seriously, Universe… I’m listening.
Here's a question I’d like to ask you: when you look back at the biggest obstacles and detours in your own story, what did they lead to? Not what you wished they had led to at that given time, what did they actually lead to?
Start building your file. The evidence matters.
Here's the pivot.
The book isn’t going away, just the opposite, in fact. But I've learned something about how this works that I didn't fully understand when I started: the platform, this very platform you're on right now, isn't here to support the book. The book is part of what anchors the platform, yes. But this platform exists regardless.
This website, the blog, the newsletter, the upcoming podcast, the social following… none of that is a marketing plan for a manuscript. All of it is the body of work. And here's the practical reality that any traditional publisher will tell you: they want to see the platform. They want to know there's already an audience, already a conversation, already a reason to pay attention. Already some fucks worth giving, if you're tracking what I'm saying.
What I thought was waiting has turned out to be building. What looked like a detour is, in fact, the road. Dirt right now, paved later.
And this? What you're reading right now? This is me on that dirt road. Living it.
The book will find its publisher when the time is right. Maybe it's who I originally hoped, maybe it's somewhere else entirely. I'm open to both. What I know is that I'm not going to rush that conversation before I've built something worth having it about. When the platform is fully rolling, I'll walk back into that conversation from a position of strength, not from a contest entry.
What this means for you.
If you're reading this and you've just had your own "not on the list" moment, a door that didn't open or a plan that fell apart, I want to say something directly to you:
The instant you choose to see that obstacle through curiosity instead of fear, something changes. Not everything. Not all at once. But something. There is genuine relief available in the question "what is this showing me?" that isn't available in "why is this happening to me?" I've felt it. It's real.
You're not being punished. You're being redirected.
The detour is the direction. Know that.
So let me ask you: what's your version of the contest? What's the padlocked iron gate that you're still standing in front of? Name it. Because that’s where this work begins, right here, right now, in that honest moment of simply naming it.
Much of what I've learned was shaped by the teachings of Gabrielle Bernstein and Wayne Dyer. They are my heroes, yes. But not my idols. I'm my idol. And you're yours. Nobody else gets to decide which doors were meant for you. Well, the Universe does. But outside of that, you decide with the Universe. You catch my drift?
And, I’m always here for ya… sending you hugs.
Cheers,
Your pal, Kev
DO THE THING
Write down one obstacle you're currently facing.
Just name it: no story, no spin, no explaining yourself. Just the fact of it.Now ask honestly: am I unsafe, or am I just uncomfortable? Those aren't the same thing. If you're uncomfortable, that's useful information. If you're unsafe, that requires action. Know the difference.
Build your retroactive evidence file. Name two or three times in your own past when an obstacle, rejection, or detour led somewhere better than where you were originally headed. Write them down. This is your proof that the pattern exists.
Try the reframe: take that current obstacle and write one sentence that starts with "What if this is protecting me from..." or "What if this is redirecting me toward..." You don't have to believe it fully yet. Just try the question on for size, see if it fits.
Take life off auto-focus for a minute. What outcome are you white-knuckling right now? What would it feel like to open your hands, adjust the focal point, and ask what's actually in sharp focus right next to it?