Today, a small, unassuming package arrived at my door—the much-anticipated delivery of Brimstone by Callie Hart. Months my friend and I have waited since we pre-ordered the book. Months of knowing this exact moment would arrive. The curious thing is, I haven’t even cracked the spine of Callie’s Quicksilver, yet the rush I felt opening the box was as breathless as if I had.
But as I pulled the book free, the packaging rustling softly, the thrill wasn’t just about the words within. It was a sudden, seismic shift in my own spirit, a deep and vibrant feeling that whispered: One day, this could be me.
Tears sprang, hot and immediate. A surge of power bloomed in my chest, a small, insistent tremble of “This is not impossible.” That profound, physical reaction? That’s not random excitement. That is alignment.
I didn’t just feel excited for Callie; I was experiencing what it feels like to be on the receiving end of my own future. My soul was not observing a dream; it was clocking a memory.
That spark in my chest was the part of me that already knows The Soul City Chronicles are not whispers, but a roar waiting to happen. It knows these stories are meant to be pre-ordered, unboxed, and clutched with the same fervor I held Brimstone. It sees the reader who will stay up until 2 am, the one who will cry over my characters, the ones who will mark the release day, saying, “Michelle Smith’s new book is releasing today!” like it’s an event on the calendar of their heart.
This moment with another author’s success? It is not envy. It is not longing. It is resonance.
My future self leaned back from the river’s bend, tapped me gently on the shoulder, and murmured, “That’s us. That’s exactly where we are heading. Keep your pen moving.
– Michelle Smith
I am not indulging in fantasy. I am remembering a future.
Because look closer: I am already architecting series-length arcs. I am already world-building a new city, brick by emotional brick. The excitement I feel for these characters is already through the roof. I already have readers of Eternal Echoes. I have already published a book. I am not wishing to be a writer; I am in the current, and today, it showed me the estuary.
I let the imagination take hold. I pictured her: a young woman, maybe a continent away, compulsively refreshing her tracking link. She saw the cover for the second Soul City book, and book 1’s magic mesmerised her into an immediate pre-order. She opens the box, runs her hand over my name on the spine, and inhales deeply. She holds it to her chest for a single, silent moment. She pauses, because she knows my stories hit different—they are not just fiction; they are coded with intuition, energy, and soul. She thinks: “This story is going to wreck me in the best way. I’ve been waiting for this.”
That, precisely, is the feeling Brimstone gifted me today. It is a preview. It is a certainty.
This moment matters because I didn’t feel the sting of lack. I felt the warmth of possibility. I felt recognition. I felt that soft, spreading expansion in my chest that declares: “My soul knows this reality.”
Manifestation begins when the feeling of the desired outcome becomes one of familiarity. I did not think “I want this.” I thought, with absolute certainty, “This is me.”
That is the difference that changes everything.
