Meet Andrew Himmel

We caught up with the brilliant and insightful Andrew Himmel a few weeks ago and have shared our conversation below.

Hi Andrew , really happy you were able to join us today and we’re looking forward to sharing your story and insights with our readers. Let’s start with the heart of it all – purpose. How did you find your purpose?
My wife Michele and I recently celebrated our 30th anniversary. Some years ago, she became involved in energy healing and other pursuits, which at first did not resonate with me. As a left-brain-oriented attorney, I found her newfound right-brain calling and colleagues challenging to relate to and understand.

But as I became more exposed to my wife’s new world, I developed an appreciation of her perspective and the perspectives of her colleagues (many of whom are doctors and PhDs), if not an enhanced understanding of their methods.

This dynamic created what I’ll refer to as a healthy tension in our relationship. Over time I began to have stray thoughts about a fictional character, conventional in outlook, becoming involved with someone more spiritually inclined. Much of my initial musing was simply about the tension itself, rather than about a more focused narrative.

During this “gestation period,” I told my wife during a hike in the California Redwoods that I was going to write a book, and its title would be “The Reluctant Healer.” She asked me what the book was going to be about. I responded that I didn’t know exactly.

But at some point, a whimsical thought occurred to me, which gradually gained definition: What if the conventional individual, rigid in his beliefs, developed the capability of healing others, even as he distrusted much of the alternative world? His struggle would become poignant and pronounced, because he would be grappling not just with tension in this relationship but also with internal conflict with phenomena that challenged both his sense of self and his worldview.

In many respects, the novel helped me to find my purpose, namely, to reconcile the logic and rigidity of a rational view of life with a more open-minded tolerance of the unknown.

Let’s take a small detour – maybe you can share a bit about yourself before we dive back into some of the other questions we had for you?
In 2017, I was involved in a catastrophic near-fatal motorcycle accident. In the immediate aftermath of the accident, the doctors considered the necessity of amputating my left leg due to bacterial infection. Ultimately, after eight surgeries within the first 10 days in the ICU, and after six weeks of hospitalization, I recovered enough to be discharged. My limbs remain intact, but I was left permanently disabled, albeit at a manageable level. I can walk and hike. I can’t run, nor can I use my left arm for any substantial lifting.

This incident was instrumental to my completing The Reluctant Healer. Although I had already begun writing the novel in fits and starts, I could not fully connect with the characters and, more fundamentally, the process of writing. The accident, while horrific, provided me two invaluable tools: Time and Perspective. Time, because I was forced to step away from a busy legal practice, and found expanses of hours to delve into the writing.

But more importantly, I gained perspective. Somehow, in ways I can’t quite explain, the accident brought home to me the fragility of life and relationships, and instilled in me a deep distrust of certainty. This freed me from external restraints and allowed me to write. What is writer’s block, after all, if not a combination of fear, loss of confidence, crippling self-doubt. But after the accident, I was thrilled to be alive, to be functional. Writer’s block was trivial. Just write. Who’s judging me? Who cares?

So I wrote far more freely during my recuperation. Ideas occurred to me. Connections formed. And in the ensuing months, I took many pages of disorganized ramblings and organized them into a cohesive narrative.

And the perspective I gained has stayed with me. I wouldn’t wish a life-threatening event on anyone, but I can’t deny that the event facilitated the creative process and bestowed upon me an enduring sense of gratitude.

There is so much advice out there about all the different skills and qualities folks need to develop in order to succeed in today’s highly competitive environment and often it can feel overwhelming. So, if we had to break it down to just the three that matter most, which three skills or qualities would you focus on?
1. Collaborate. Find someone to work closely with. In my case, I worked with my wife. I would write a few pages, then I would sit down and read the pages out loud to her. This, I believe, is essential. Don’t just ask someone to read the pages. Read it out loud. I went through this process with Michele with every chapter, page, paragraph, word of the novel.

Two things happened in this process. First, I found that reading the passages out loud immediately highlighted either the strength or weakness of the material. Second, my wife and I were engaged in an intense collaboration which took the material off the page and into the room. The characters became immediate, the plot more consequential. And we argued. And tweaked. And we became frustrated. Sometimes, we fought over words, character names. Other times, we quarreled over broader themes. But the value was incalculable, because the entirety of the project was subject to a collaborative scrutiny that, I believe, enhanced the work’s quality.

We did not always reach an agreement, but even in those moments, the passages in question were tested and either survived the scrutiny or wilted in the face of it.

Collaboration also mitigates the inherently lonely nature of writing and leads to the formation of different ideas and perspectives.

2. Move. I learned early on that designating one desk in a quiet place, with no distractions, was actually a poor environment for the creative process. I found, instead, that movement, coupled with contemplation, provided the necessary supply of thoughts and idea, which I could then put into words later on.

I would often step outside of my NYC Flatiron office and walk to the nearby Madison Square Park. I would then walk through the interior paths or around the perimeter, speaking out loud draft passages. I imagine I looked peculiar to some, as I gestured wildly and spoke with intensity to no one in particular (although, this being New York, perhaps no one noticed me at all).

When my monologue would cohere into something tangible and interesting, I would then run back to my office and type quickly the random thoughts I had collected while in the park. I would repeat this process until I had collected a few pages of rambling passages. I then had the raw material which I could shape into something usable in the novel. I found this process far more helpful than simply staring at a blank screen, hoping for inspiration.

3. Dare to be awful. I saw a famous screenwriter on a YouTube video giving a masterclass in writing. He was in a conference room, in front of a chalkboard, with his class. He began to demand ideas, but with one requirement. The ideas had to be awful. If a student came up with a terrible idea, he would praise them. “That’s great, yes, that really is a lousy idea. Keep going.” And when someone came up with a pretty good idea, he said: “Nope, sorry, no good, because that’s actually a creative thought that has potential.”

It was funny and silly, but also liberating. The class participants relaxed, laughed, and over time, their ideas became less preposterous and more considered.

Awesome, really appreciate you opening up with us today and before we close maybe you can share a book recommendation with us. Has there been a book that’s been impactful in your growth and development?
“Learned Hand: The Man and the Judge” by Gerald Gunther had a profound impact on my world view. Learned Hand was a respected jurist and, at first glance, might seem an uninspiring subject But the book is largely a portrait of humility. Ironically, Judge Hand, who wrote thousands of opinions, is probably best known for a brief speech he gave in New York City, which lasted but a few minutes. In this 1944 “Spirit of Liberty” speech, presented to an audience of over 500,000 people in Central Park, New York City, Judge Hand warned against dogmatism and certainty, stating that the spirit of liberty is one which “is not too sure that it is right.”

Certainty leads to intolerance. If one is convinced that he or she is in possession of unassailable truth, then why bother considering alternate views? Why engage in considered discussion and debate? I believe that Learned Hand’s worldview would guard against such certainty and allow for a freer and more collegial exchange of views and ideas.

At the same time, I have some sympathy for the view, expressed by Yann Martel in The Life of Pi, that choosing doubt as a philosophy of life “is akin to choosing immobility as a means of transportation.” I’d like to believe that The Reluctant Healer navigates a path through these waters, and that somewhere in the space between certainty and doubt lies the infinite possibilities of healing miracles.

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