What’s Next? (When Beginnings Feel Like “The End”)

Like many young people this time of year, the main protagonist in my upcoming novel is at the threshold of her “What’s Next”–and it’s really freaking her out. 

Tessa has just finished her third university degree. For years, she’s watched her grandparents scrimp and sacrifice to ensure she had every opportunity after her mom died, and now, What’s Next is to go make it all worthwhile. Indeed, Tessa Lewis is finally on the cusp of becoming “something BIG,” just like her proud grandpop always promised she would.

Except…she hasn’t a clue what that looks like.

For the first time in memory, Tessa’s life isn’t blocked off into academic terms. The timelines and targets aren’t set out on a tidy syllabus, delivered in advance. The blank space ahead is supposed to be limitless; instead, it’s paralyzing.

“But now, at twenty-six, thirty loomed large. Like a speech running too long, it was time to wrap up the student thing. Roll next segment. Only, for all the depth and breadth of her transcripts, Tessa didn’t know how to do that part. No textbook had unearthed the slightest inkling towards one path over another – choosing one, with no clear sense of where it ended up, felt impossible.” (Excerpt from The Blue Iris)

By contrast, Will Westlake’s What’s Next is as clear as the four-and-a-half carat diamond in Tessa’s underwear drawer, just waiting for its big reveal. Word along King Street is he’s the most up-and-coming lawyer Toronto has ever seen. He’s months away from taking over his father’s firm, should his father’s mayoral bid prove successful. He and Tessa will share a penthouse downtown for a few years while they establish their careers, then move to an oak-strewn property in the suburbs to raise a family of rescue animals. 

Except…Will is secretly terrified he doesn’t have what it takes to hold it all down. Worse, it appears this carefully mapped path he’s on might require becoming a different person entirely. 

At their age, my What’s Next felt like being caught in a riptide. Where was my place in the world? What did it look like? How did I get there? What if I never found it? What if I did–and I hated it?

Today, my fledgling second career looks nothing like the first. I’m infinitely more certain about so many things. The path ahead holds more clarity than ever before. And yet, as my debut novel approaches the final stages before publication, I can confirm I still have absolutely no idea what’s next.

The closer we get to thirty (and the further on the other side of it), the heavier the pressure to “start our lives.” To have our What’s Next reduced to a polished ten-second sound byte, easily deliverable to the well-meaning people asking a hundred times a day. The lack of any firm answer, the absence of that direction we’re surely supposed to have by now, starts feeling a lot like failure.

They don’t tell us that at forty (fifty, sixty?), the struggle remains largely the same as we re-evaluate those paths we thought were for us but turned out not to be, still trying to “figure out our lives.” 

Nobody tells you “getting your life together” is how you will spend a great deal of your life. 

There are things I wish I could say to Tessa, Will, my younger self who informed their struggles, and everyone else on the brink of a beginning that feels a little too much like The End: 

1. Forget Thirty 

That big, dirty benchmark by which you’re deciding how far you’re falling behind? It’s drastically outdated.

Statistically speaking, you have more time ahead than any generation before you. Thirty today is COMPLETELY different than in your grandparents’ day — arguably, it’s the new twenty (if you don’t believe me, just ask Gary Vee).

Why are you measuring yourself against a metric that’s totally obsolete?  (Or any external metric at all?)

2. If It’s Meant For You, It’s Not Going to Miss You

I spent so much time preoccupied with questions of: What’s Next?

And THEN what?

And what NOW?

No answer was ever enough. Each one was some form of “wait and see.”

Six years ago, I introduced myself in an Intro to Creative Writing class as a new writer excited to work on “anything but fiction.” Fiction was not for me. It’s…made up. There’s no tangible beginning point–how could I possibly get all the way to the end? What if I ran out of ideas halfway? Even if by some miracle I did manage to finish, THEN what? What if it sucks? What if nobody wants to read it? What if somebody wants to read it? 

My wonderful instructor shared this quote from E.L. Doctorow:

“Writing is like driving at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.”

And so in life, I promise. You don’t need to see every signpost and street light between here and where you’re headed before heading out. If you try, you’ll waste a ton of brain power (and likely never leave the driveway).

We are ALL figuring it out as we go.

NO ONE knows if we’re getting any of it right.

A LOT of people are more skilled than you at hiding it (and entirely full of sh*t).

So just go. And when you hit those dead-end moments, where it feels like you’ve travelled a hundred miles in the wrong direction, watch this gem from Steve Harvey and head a little further down life’s hall.

3. It All Comes Down To Love vs. Fear

As Jim Carrey explains in this moving graduation speech, every step from here on in will be, at its root, driven by one or the other. Sometimes, fear will disguise itself as love and vice versa. At times, you’ll choose wrong (likely after overthinking what’s right).

It’s okay.

See 1 and 2 above.

Try to remember “getting your life together” IS your life.

You’re on your path,. By definition, doesn’t that mean wherever you are right now is exactly where you’re meant to be, en route to what’s waiting for you next?

Work hard, be open to saying yes, and always bring your best. Along the way, pay close attention to what lights you up inside — then keep finding ways to make room for that.

Even if it terrifies you.