As an author, I’m asked a lot about my writing process, and I usually make a joke about how I’m a mess. In truth, what happens when my hands are on the keyboard is something that makes me feel rather uncomfortable. I’m not in control. I never know what I’m going to write until I’ve written it, and I’m finally understanding that is okay. Word by word, over and over, it takes shape.
I’ve come to a realization that becoming good at something creative or worthwhile is a process of applying layers, and being willing to be really uncomfortable when the Thing is halfway done. It will look yicky. You will not like it. You will be pretty sure that you’re not succeeding. This is when another layer must be applied.
When the Covid 19 pandemic required the entire world to stay home, I turned my office chair around 180 degrees to look at what had been sitting behind me for nine years: my custom-built Victorian-Gothic dollhouse. It was shameful to own something so incredible and the mere sight of it made me despair, because the truth was, it did not inspire me. I hadn’t even opened it for two years. I wished I could call a tiny real estate agent to list it. Was breathing life into something so dusty and dormant even possible?
The first few times I opened the dollhouse’s front door, I was uncomfortable. It was just as I remembered. It had not reached its potential, I knew it, and I didn’t like it. I moved the velvet armchairs and used a lint roller to clean the carpets, then dusted the inch-tall porcelain vases with a paintbrush. Next, I turned the lights on and saw how my 1:12 scale chandeliers sparkled. I felt a corresponding sparkle in my heart.
Very small parcels started arriving in my mailbox. I began to spend so much time lost in these tiny rooms that I’d forget meals and the scary world outside my window. I hated the drab little bathroom, so I focused all my energy on it until it was an eccentric jungle of potted plants surrounding the brass claw-foot tub. Layer by layer, I began to love this dollhouse again. I christened it Blackthorne Manor—magic objects really shine when they have a name or title. It wasn’t too late to give it a name, not even after so many years had passed.
I hope that this might inspire you to look at the project or dream that is perhaps sitting behind you right now, that thing in your life that could be your own personal source of magic and heart sparkles if you could just bring yourself to apply one new layer to it. You might shake your head: It’s been too long! It’s covered in dust!
A book starts off as a blank page. A dollhouse starts out as wood. Nothing starts out looking like the finished product, and if you can accept that and work through the discomfort (particularly if you have perfectionist tendencies), then you can end up with a finished product that is a tiny work of art and something only you can produce. It doesn’t even require you to make a life-changing leap; just add one new layer of effort, attention, and time. Add a new layer to that dream, and just like the tortoises at Providence, make the journey, one inch at a time. They always get where they’re going, and so will you.
A blank page is a gift. Make your mark on it.
I now have the opportunity to provide a little bonus piece here at the end of the book, and when I thought about what to include, I realized that Melanie Sasaki had not had her full moment in the sun. Ruthie Midona found love too early, derailing Melanie’s carefully planned-out Sasaki Method, and I knew what I wanted to write.
Included here, just for fun, is what I imagine Melanie’s query letter to a literary agent would look like as she takes her first step toward publishing The Sasaki Method. This is not a book I am planning on writing, but it is intended as a thank-you to the girl who put her heart and soul into matchmaking in Second First Impressions.
About the book
Melanie’s Query Letter for The Sasaki Method
Connor Randall Literary Agency 22 W 24th St, #900A, New York, NY Attn: Harriet Schwartz
Dear Harriet,
We met in February at the Nonfiction Writers’ Festival, and we talked briefly during the lunch buffet about the dating self-help book I have written. You laughed a lot at my pitch, complimented my hair, and gave me your business card. In my opinion, we hit it off, big-time.
I really enjoyed the recent release by your client, Greer Johnson’s It’s Not All About You, which further convinced me I’d be a good fit for your agency.
I am now seeking representation for my debut nonfiction self-help book, The Sasaki Method.
This is the survival guide tucked in your backpack when hacking through the Tinder jungle. It’s the book to give to a friend who’s been off the market for a while, stuck in their shell, Too Busy for This Nonsense, or in any way feeling like they’ve missed the boat. Written with the tone of “annoyingly upbeat, nosy little sister” (source: my older sister,Genevieve), The Sasaki Method asks the reader to commit to an eight-week program of introspective goal setting and practical exercises. Self-love is the primary goal, then opening up the individual to romantic love. Hetero relationships are not referred to as the “norm,” and the language and case studies are inclusive.
If any challenge is made to my credentials, I will only have to reference the number of successful true-love pairings I have orchestrated. I am a modern-day Emma Woodhouse. This is my gift and I want to share it.
In combination with the book will be an IOS app (currently in beta testing), and I have also recorded four podcast episodes. I believe this gives us options for establishing a stable marketing platform. I also have full synopsis prepared for two further books in this series: The Sasaki Meaning (identifying signals the Universe is sending you) and The Sasaki Redemption (how to redeem yourself in today’s cancel culture). I have identified an imprint at Bexley and Gamin that I believe would be an ideal home for my books. I’d love to talk more about this with you.
Please find attached a sample of The Sasaki Method, and I remain on standby to submit a full manuscript if you should request it.
Yours,
Melanie Sasaki
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FOREWORD
We all have a superpower, and mine is helping others find true love.
I’ve been this way as long as I can remember. Each of my Barbies was in a deeply committed relationship with a Ken doll— or another Barbie (I’ve always been an ally). I wasn’t dressing up as a bride; I was throwing petals on my friend. I didn’t have my own love affairs in high school, but instead was the one engineering promposals and connecting unrequited crushes.
Perhaps my belief in love comes from my father. He’s Japanese, and he has always told me folk stories about the red string of fate—the idea that you and another are tied together, finding your way back to each other. Sometimes the string ties two individuals together who have something to learn from each other. Other times, it’s true love. By day, I run activities programs for seniors, and they are less poetic about it: “There’s someone for everyone, ain’t there, dearie.” It’s true.
My sourpuss sister, Genevieve, had no hope of finding love until she finally engaged my services— and now she’s engaged to the equally sourpuss Mark. In time, they’ll birth some sour little kittens. I encouraged* (*borderline forced) my hairdresser Lin-Lin to ask out her deeply shy dog groomer, Margaret. I was their bridesmaid. At that same wedding, I found two sets of shy wallflowers, put them together on the dance floor, and now there are two new engagement rings on fingers.