Hard to Find, Lucky to Have

I'm guessing a Depeche Mode concert is not among the likely places to find a four-leaf clover. And yet...

Let's journey back to 2023 — the year four of my favorite artists had my bank account in a chokehold. Duran Duran, The Cure, Liz Phair, and Depeche Mode all had tour stops in Atlanta.

After the stellar Depeche Mode concert (Dave Gahan is a god!), I awaited the elevator so I could make my exit from State Farm Arena.

My wait was interrupted by a woman in the crowd. She handed me a laminated four-leaf clover. These little plants are rare and hard to find, but she was giving them away to three random people who she thought needed some luck. She chose me amongst the thousands of Gen X & Xennial goths.

By the time the elevator doors opened, there wasn't enough time to explain why this spontaneous gift meant so much to me. Four-leaf clovers are associated with "the luck of the Irish." And as a Bajan-American who is writing her first rom-com about a woman from Ireland, I'll take all the luck I can get. But what really shocked me is when plant lady told me she picked the clover in North Carolina. Well, just hours before the Depeche Mode concert, I had booked a solo writing retreat (pause for dramatic effect) in North Carolina! I don't often admit this, but it felt like a sign.

Happenstance wasn't done with me yet. Many months later, I attended the Atlanta Writers Conference. Shortly before pitching my novel to several agents & editors, another random person handed me a four-leaf clover!

Am I being followed by a vigilante group of four-leaf clover distributors who surprise me with symbolic mementos of good fortune at the most perfectly opportune moments? Possibly. But my heart wants to believe it's a sign of something more significant: to keep writing.

Blame it on procrastination, perfectionism, or just being beat down by life, but I've been working on my novel for far too long. Many people have stopped asking about my novel and I've avoided talking about it. But there's still a space in my heart that's eager for me to put my own story out into the world. So, when someone randomly hands me a rare four-leaf clover — twice — it actually feels extraordinary to me.

I wouldn't be surprised if someone at the writing conference thought I was on drugs for spouting off about a little miracle that only made sense to me. But this isn't the only sign I've been given to remain resilient.

When I needed one last critique of my pitch letter at the writing conference, the ladies of the Women's Fiction Writers Association came together like The Avengers to help me during a Zoom writing session. Then, each pitch meeting I walked into, it felt like I had an invisible army of friends that were pushing me to be great. And in the end, each of those agents & editors wanted to hear back from me about my novel! (And shoutout to Clint Hall and Tama Kieves who hyped me up throughout the conference like I was Rocky Balboa.)

"A good friend is like a four-leaf clover, hard to find and lucky to have." - Irish Proverb

The burden of lymphedema and the burnout of being a journalist has often tricked me into believing that this kind of care and support is hard to find. But I couldn't be more lucky to have it. And as bittersweet as it may be, I am grateful for the people who do still ask me, "How's the book going?"