When I was little I think I knew I wanted to be a writer. I LOVED to read. I would disappear from the house, go down to the creek, climb a tree, and read until I heard my dad’s whistle. I had a pretty ridiculous imagination (still do) and I could just be in my own head for a long time. I also LOVED to write. When I got a new notebook I would open it up, smell the pages, and stare at the lines on the page. There was something so exciting about the potential of that blankness waiting to be filled. I would write (bad) poetry, short stories, and pretend to interview people for a ‘newspaper article’ I was writing.
And then I lost my way. At some point I realized that writing wasn’t just about creativity but you actually had to know your stuff (gramar, sentence structure). I still don’t know what a dangling participle is! Writing is hard work and most people don’t make a living at it. That was just a little too real for me. It took the fun out of writing.
In college I started as an English major and was doing well. But I could never answer the question, “what do you want to be when you grow up?” Being a ‘writer’ no longer seemed realistic to me (you know, because of all the hard work) and the other jobs that could come from an English degree didn’t excite me. I didn’t want to teach, or edit, and I didn’t want to starve. My writing career was over before it started. Blogs didn’t exist back then (back off, I’m only 30) so that media never occured to me.
So why is it that now, at this point in my life, I have returned to writing and am enjoying it so much. It’s pretty much all I think about. There is no greater thrill than when I see how many people have read what I wrote and shared it with their friends. There is no better compliment someone can give me right now than to tell me they like my blog (other than telling me I look skinny). I pretty much think about writing/blogging every minute. My husband is probably so sick of hearing me say, “oh, I should blog about that.” It’s consuming me.
The problem is that I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. Don’t get me wrong, I have a great job that I really enjoy, working for a company I am proud to be a part of. I am referring to what I want to do about this damn writing bug I have. I still don’t know if it is realistic to do it for a living. Everytime I read anything by authors they say how much work it is, how hard it is to make money, how it’s impossible to make money blogging unless you do it full time, etc etc. So, am I supposed to just let the joy of writing this free blog be enough? Am I supposed to pursue this further? I am not necessarily afraid of the failure. I am afraid of committing months/years to a project that brings me nothing in return (except for the joy of writing). Apparently a lot of authors work somewhere in the ‘biz’ like in publishing, or they edit a paper. I don’t. I would literally google, “how to publish a book”.
Well for right now, I am going to continue reading as much as I can, writing this blog (hoping people read it), and maybe work on my many book ideas on the side. We’ll see where it goes. Thanks for listening.