The one thing I was always sure about growing up was that I would be a writer. I didn’t know what kind of writer I wanted to be. I just knew I loved to write. The road to discovering my writing preference feels like a long one, but when I finally decided to take a breath and ask myself what I want out of life the answer was simple. I want to write my own story.
When I was little I used to make up stories all the time with my friends, but I didn’t discover my passion for creative writing until my Fifth grade teacher had us write the ending to a mystery story she had read to us one day. She encouraged us to embrace our creativity and I did. I would look forward to her writing assignments because I knew I would be able to write whatever I wanted.
In high school I began writing for myself. I would write poetry all the time. I began writing my first book at that time too, but I never finished it. Probably a good thing because since then I have been rewriting and expanding on the idea I started with. I feel like this version is the best one I’ve created so far, but more on that later.
I was going to be a creative writing major in college, but my advisor talked me out of it. She said a journalism degree would better prepare me for the workforce, which it did. During my college years I wrote for the student newspaper and realized I really do not like newspaper writing. I had an internship for a local magazine and while it was better than newspaper writing, it still was not what I wanted.
I graduated with my degree in journalism and I had a job as a part-time reporter and I hated it. I am very thankful to the people who hired me and gave me the opportunity to write professionally, but it just wasn’t for me. During all these years I would always write for me. Writing for myself kept me sane when everything else was a mess in my life.
I had a short job as a copywriter. While I was writing everyday I dreaded sitting at the computer for eight hours a day writing about subjects that were quite honestly, very boring.
It took me losing that job to realize I was going down the wrong path. I was living a life I felt like I was supposed to live. I wanted a good paying job, but I wasn’t happy. I was unemployed for a month and during that time I decided I was going to write my first novel. I would work hard everyday and I would try to get it published. It is the path I wanted to be on in the beginning; it just took me a little time to get there. After failing at the things that make me unhappy it is time to try something that makes me happy. Even if I fail at this, I admit I won’t be happy about it, but I will be able to say that I tried and to me that can be everything.