Growing up in Istanbul, Carl Sagan was one of my childhood heroes.
He would speak to me through the original Cosmos series. I didn’t speak a word of English, so I wasn’t quite sure what he was saying. But I listened anyway.
When I started exploring options for college, my first choice was Cornell, where Sagan once taught.
But there was a snag: High school and I didn’t get along well. The outdated education system, with its emphasis on rote memorization, stifled my curiosity. My grades were good—just not Ivy League good.
But I wasn’t about to give up on my dream. I asked myself: How else can I get there?
That question led me somewhere unexpected. As a high school junior, I applied to Cornell’s Summer College—a six-week program where you live on campus and take actual college classes, graded alongside undergraduates. To me, it was the perfect proof of concept: show what I could do inside the institution I wanted to join.
I chose Computer Science 101 and Astronomy 101—both subjects I was genuinely obsessed with. I loved the material, and it showed. I got an A+ in both.
My CS professor was so impressed that he wrote a recommendation letter and, in a highly unorthodox move, personally delivered it to the admissions office.
I got in.
The most obvious path is often the most crowded path—and therefore the most difficult. Everyone applying to Cornell was sending the same materials, telling similar stories, hoping to be the exception. I found a side door and walked through it.
I’ve carried that lesson into every corner of my life since. When I decided to part ways with my literary agent, I didn’t send query letters into the void like everyone else. I wrote about my decision publicly on this blog and invited agents to come to me. At the end of the post, I added a quiet PS: If you’re a literary agent reading this and you’ve felt creative synergy with my work, I’d love to hear from you.
I received numerous responses, but one of them stood out. Two readers—who didn’t know each other—forwarded the post to the same agent. She read my work, felt a connection, and reached out. She’s now my agent.
Same question. Different context. How else can I get there?
Most people spend their energy defining the destination—the degree, the deal, the job, the dream. Far fewer stop to ask whether the route they’re taking is actually the best one, or just the most familiar.
The unconventional routes—the ones you have to imagine and carve out yourself—tend to be less crowded. Less exhausting. And more often than not, they carry you somewhere that actually feels like yours.
The obvious path was built for someone else’s dream.
P.S. The agent story had a good ending. We’re working on a new book together as I write this.
P.P.S. My operations assistant Brendan is available for work. Over the past six years, he’s been active behind the scenes providing both editorial and technical support for my weekly newsletter, my site, my books, my online courses—pretty much everything you’ve seen come out of Ozanland. Entrepreneurs and other small business owners in need of assistance can email him here.
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