For many years she felt lost in the 9 to 5 world. Working for the man as they put it. She tried her hardest to fit into that world. At the beginning of each new job, she would feel so alive. She was excited with all the possibilities that this new opportunity afforded her. But as the days slipped into weeks. Then weeks into months, she could feel her passion slip as well. She felt constrained by the hours she was expected to just sit at a desk and produce material. She felt pulled in too many directions that didn’t speak to her. She was just confused at what did actually speak to her.
Then it happened out of the blue. One of her followers on twitter messaged her asking why she wasn’t writing. Writing? She thought to herself. I’m not a writer! Then a couple days later, another one asked her the same question in different words. It didn’t really sink in till she was sitting with her daughter, sharing lunch and stories of happenings in their days. Why aren’t you writing these stories out her oldest questioned her. There is it was again! That word! Writing.
She laughed it off as some crazy idea at the time.
And as she sat poised with her fingers over the keyboard almost 2 and half years later, she smiled at that memory. What started out as a silly hobby was now how she felt she was meant to live her life. She couldn’t explain this crazy calling she felt to put her thoughts to paper. Or how, when she lost the last job, she all but decided to give this writing a go full time. Or how she felt when her family still asked if her stories were paying her money yet, a slight snicker in their words. She wasn’t sure of this path she was following herself most days, so how could she explain it to others?
All she knew was for the 5th time in her life, she knew she was right where she needed to be. The other 4 times being the moment she delivered her babies. This felt very much like being a mother to her. The same intensity of knowing that she was right where she belonged.
All too many times she had ignored that little voice inside of her that pointed her in a direction. A direction she was unwilling to follow. Well not this time she thought. So on shaky knees and without knowing a thing about the writing world, she began. First she just wrote. She poured out her thoughts onto the screen, posting them to her blog with the hopes that someone might stumble onto her words and agree that yes, she was meant to earn a living at this.
Then, when she felt a little braver and the white knight hadn’t rode in with a paycheck, she started submitting her articles to an online magazine. Oh the joy when she got the first email back saying that they had chosen to publish her! She can still feel that excitement in her heart when she read the words on the screen that day! I’m not crazy she thought! Others do want to read what I put down.
Lately she has been exploring where she can submit her work for actually money. She just dabbles with that right now. It is one thing for someone to take her work for free it is another to ask someone to pay for her thoughts. She is slowly overcoming that fear. Each day she grows a little wiser and a little stronger. Each day she is more confident in her skills. Each day, when she sits at the laptop willing the stories to come to her, she is sure that the little voice inside her head is right.
And she knows, one day with sheer determination and will power, her name will appear across the front of a book that sits on the shelf at the book store she browses at. One day, she will realize her dream.