Clearly, I was destined for monumental success. ~cough~
The moment of the decision came whilst in the throes of Total Life Chaos -- that other kind of TLC. I'd abruptly discovered I was physically incapable of continuing the lifestyle of Checking All The Success Boxes. You know the boxes -- crafted from the finest expectations of society and filled with all the rational "shoulds" and "musts." I'd invested heavily in the facade of the Right & Responsible Way. I was good at Exceeding Expectations ... until I broke.
Amusingly, conforming to what society
had deemed best for me had made me literally sick.
So I stopped living up to a false ideal. I tuned out all the Theys and Thems. I listened within. It took a while to reconnect with me, my individuality, and my desires. Eventually, I succeeded. After a time, when I asked myself every Hiring Manager's favorite question, "Where do you see yourself in five years," the answer came easily and with truth.
I saw myself telling stories.
Since a pack of slavering wildebeests can carry a tune far better than me, I knew I wasn't heading to Broadway. A rusty sieve can retain more than my feeble memory, so Hollywood was out of the question too. If I couldn't perform someone else's stories, I'd write my own damn tales and maybe even get them published. I gave myself permission to be as weird and as eccentric as my recovering good-girl corporate-self could muster...but maybe I'd give those super odd inclinations to a character first and see how that panned out for her.
I started writing.
With all the writing came the learning -- about the business first, then about the craft. Hey, I said I was a recovering business wonk. I analyzed the hard rules and sifted through the purely subjective guidelines. I've made glorious mistakes and fabulous friends in the years since I transitioned from decision to commitment.
Any day now, I'll be Published with Pride. Any day now ...
