Somewhere in Between
In Anna Mitchael’s latest book, transformation begins in the quietest places.
Anna Mitchael’s new book, “They Will Tell You the World is Yours,” defies categorization — and perhaps that’s the point. It is fiction, but it reads like truth. It is prose but often feels like poetry. In the world of literary labels, Mitchael’s work slips between definitions, choosing instead to live where most of us do — somewhere in between.
“On a heart level, I like that it’s open and not categorizable,” Mitchael explained. “Neither are we.”
The Waco-based author’s third release is a quietly powerful collection of stories that move with the rhythm of memory. Following a woman’s life from birth, each short chapter distills a moment, often small on the surface but charged with emotional gravity. It’s a book that speaks to anyone standing at the edge of change, anyone who has longed to understand themselves.
Her writing is unadorned but lush. Spare but resonant. Mitchael’s voice doesn’t shout; it beckons.
“They Will Tell You the World is Yours” opens with a soft invitation: You don’t need to be anyone else. You don’t need to do anything grand. Just begin.
Though technically fiction, the collection draws its emotional charge from the deeply lived. When asked whether her work falls closer to poetry or nonfiction, she answered, “Somewhere in between. I’ve had many calls with people at the publishing house on how to define the stories, and no one’s ever been able to decisively categorize it.”
That freedom — of form, of voice — is reflected in the structure of the book. Each piece is short, often just a few paragraphs, but they linger. Like an echo or a scent, they stay with you.
“I started this book because I felt like a lot of women out there wanted a hopeful message they weren’t finding in longer form fiction,” Mitchael said. “It was the book I wanted to read in that moment. It was the emotional arc I wanted to find.”
Small Moments, Big Shifts
Mitchael’s stories are full of subtle pivots — moments when something unspoken becomes known.
Her story “Oh Brother” seems simple at first — a classic sibling dynamic filled with the expected teasing and trash-talk. However, just beneath the surface, it reveals a moving portrait of fierce, unspoken love. It shows the reader a brother, gently and instinctively guiding and protecting his younger sister. The final lines of the chapter land with the quiet ache of a dream of shared futures colliding with the reality of growing up and growing apart.
Elsewhere, the prose floats between memory and imagination, between sorrow and wonder. “Are you sure you want me?” one line asks, expressing a heartbreakingly vulnerable, deep-seated fear of not being worthy. “I am,” it answers.
So how does Mitchael decide which moments are worth expanding?
“When it moves me,” she said. “If something has lingered with me for months or years — whether that be a snippet of a story someone told me, or an experience I witnessed or lived through — I’ll usually try and write about it. Then, after some time, I go back to the writing and see if it’s giving me that same jolt.”
A Practice in Perspective
Mitchael writes in second person — a voice that pulls readers in close. “I felt like it invited readers into the story,” she said. “My hope is that it gives space too. So, depending on the reader and the day, they can choose how deeply they want to read it.”
Sometimes, she said, just knowing someone else has felt the way you feel is enough. “Then, some days, we don’t want to feel, we just want to get lost in words for a bit.”
That generous instinct — to offer space, rather than demand emotion — is part of what makes this book feel so intimate.
The repetition for the first line of each chapter creates a rhythm throughout the book. Every chapter begins with some variation of the phrase, “They will tell you…”
“I really wanted to get across the fact that it truly never stops,” Mitchael said. “I think sometimes with all these expectations on us, our minds go to the big things, but really, expectations are down to how you act in the grocery store. I think part of the message of the book is just being aware of that kind of atmosphere that we’re creating around ourselves, what we allow in and also what we put out and how we live.”
Fiction, Mitchael said, offers emotional freedom. “It means it’s not my life out there. Of course, people will want to draw connections or make assumptions, but you’re going to get that from walking down the street. So, I’ve chosen not to worry too much about that aspect.”
It’s a shift that comes with experience. “When my first book came out, I held other people’s opinions more closely. This time, she said she tried to stay focused on gratitude — that the book even made it out into the world.
“This book is so unique in format that I didn’t know if it was going to be able to get published,” Mitchael said. So I’ve approached it with that mindset of being grateful that people believed it needed to be out in the world, and I’ve continued to try and look through that lens since the actual pub day.”
She’s also found connections through reader interactions, both expected and unexpected. “I had a reader from overseas message me last week, and I don’t even understand how they got the book because it was a USA-only release, but that felt special,” she said. “The idea that I could reach into people’s lives and offer something encouraging and a point of connection is why I write.”
A Voice You Know
At its core, “They Will Tell You the World is Yours” is about coming home to yourself. About clearing the noise and listening for your own truth. The voice that emerges while reading Mitchael’s book isn’t external. It is the self, perhaps the soul, finally heard.
In that way, the book isn’t just a collection of stories — it’s a mirror. The final line says it all: The End. Beginning.
Because maybe the world doesn’t have to be handed to you. Maybe it’s already yours.
