My love affair with language began extremely early on in my life.
I was exposed to writing as a profession at birth. My great-grandfather had been a prolific writer in the 1940s and this fact was always touted in my family. He gained significant fame after publishing a book called Rhubarb about a cat that inherits a baseball team. The book was later adapted to a film.
From early on I wanted to be a writer. I loved my English classes in elementary school and found great pleasure in writing short stories and scribbling away in my journal. I also read a seemingly impossible number of books as a small child, so many that I would literally stay home sick from school so I could read books. In retrospect my love for reading was probably serving as a coping mechanism for my mom’s addiction problems and my parents’ divorce, but we’ll let sleeping dogs lie.
But I wanted to be a writer. There was something so flashing and exciting about it and I loved the idea of being a grown up and saying “oh yes, I’m a writer” at dinner parties and other events that adults attended. However, as I started getting older that desire was stamped out of me as my underfunded public school system failed to produce adequate creative outlets and my writing turned solely analytical. I still appreciated the act of writing, but my passion for it was lost by the time puberty hit and I had more important things to worry about (like boys and doing a terrible job of putting on makeup).
It wasn’t until recently that I have come back to the idea of writing as a career, notably since I met my current boyfriend. Wolf, a motion animator and creative genius, has been foundational in my embracement of writing as an art and a career path and has given me a lot of confidence in chasing a dream. On a recent trip with him, I had an epiphany that every job I’ve been interested in since high school as well as both of my on-campus jobs have been extremely writing-intensive, and I thought: why not make it something someone will pay me to do?
So here I am, working hard to make the bacon, spending my days on the internet erecting the scaffolding around the dream that I am beginning to make into a reality. It’s proving to be a ton of work but it’s work that I enjoy: I get to talk to people all day on the internet, travel from my armchair, learn a hell of a lot, and write every single day. And I’m happy with my new mobility, my newfound ambition, and my new life.