Pop Quiz: Why did Tamara become a writer?
a) She tried to go to nursing school but found herself nauseous when forced to clean the scabby, cancerous wound of a sweet elderly lady.
b) Her favorite activity no matter what the time of day or what the weather is reading; she couldn’t find a job reading books, so she decided that writing was the next best thing.
c) She majored in English at college because it was the only subject that could hold her attention for four full years.
d) Although she is verbally incontinent, she has the profound ability to make sense in writing.
e) All of the above
Correct Answer: E
I wish that there was a deep and meaningful reason why I decided that being a writer was in my cards. Like so many things in life, however, my desire and ability to write seemed to coagulate from a series of failed attempts at other professions.
I’m still very new at the idea of making a living entirely from the words that spring out of my head and through my fingertips. Although writing has certainly been a part of my academic and professional past, it has always been in the context of another job title or function. Nowadays, I get up every morning, flip on my computer, and begin yet another day of writing and staying home with my little girl. It sometimes takes a few hours (usually after my coffee kicks in), but somewhere in between making breakfast and jumping on the computer to write a few paragraphs while my daughter is otherwise engaged, I get this huge emotional high. It’s as though I am all of a sudden hit with a bag of “you can do this for the rest of your life!”
It’s true. Writing can be a profession, and it can be a profession that you dictate and guide all on your own. It can give you the financial rewards of being successful in the business world as well as the emotional rewards of knowing that you are there for your family above all things.
Nothing is better than that.
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Well put! Especially the last paragraph. Nursing? I get sick just thinking about treating a wound. Ick.
Well, the nursing school’s loss is our gain.
Nursing school dropout here, too (raising hand). Funny that you mentioned letter D. I can barely hold an intelligent conversation ~ the very thought of talking to strangers makes my palms sweat. I can convey my thought much more easily through writing.