Today, I Quit My Job To Write Full Time
In the middle of a pandemic with no backup plan
I have been wanting to write this story for a while.
When the idea of abandoning my life as I knew it first occurred to me, I imagined success to be in the form of an inspiring article. An uplifting piece; my own contribution to the plethora of ‘you-can-do-anything-if-you-put-your-mind-to-it’ narratives littering the internet. I suppose the way I framed it, the way I dreamed of commemorating it by writing this very story, is testament to my love of words, and a sign that I’m on the right path.
But nothing is ever quite how we imagine, is it?
Let’s take it back to the start. I’ll give you some background, so that you can get that warm, fuzzy feeling that us inspo-junkies crave: the oh, she’s just like me moment, the one that drives you forward and makes you think you can do it too.
When I was sixteen, I wanted to be a journalist. My English teacher told me outright that this was unachievable; I could write, but my attention span was severely lacking. So I did what any self-respecting sixteen year old does: I sulked, smoked a cigarette down an alleyway and set my sights on psychology instead. Seven years later, I stood on a stage in a cap and gown and was presented with my MSc.
