I am getting more writing done than ever.
I am getting better at writing.
I'm loving writing.
I'm not shy to say I write.
I'm not shy to say I write and sell articles.
I'm comfortable with my gift at last.
One day back in around 2004, I was looking for my next significant calling in life beyond being an Executive Assistant and then an at-home mom. I recall seeing a neighbour home during the day. I had never met her, but I began to imagine what I thought she did for a living. I can't explain why, but I imagined she was a writer. I didn't narrow down who she wrote for or where she got projects. I just imagined her life as a writer, if she indeed was one, must have been very fulfilling and high paying. I was actually jealous.
That was before I realized just how hard it is to get writing gigs and make sales. That was before I realized the publishing business was going into the dumper and writers were paid actually paid peanuts unless they were a major author. That was before I actually considered myself a writer. That was before I'd earned any money as a writer.
Well, as it turned out, this neighbour was not a writer. She'd been laid off from a job and was in between work as--guess what? An executive assistant!
What I find very funny is now I am that woman I imagined. I am a writer who gets to drink coffee at a comfy desk in a home office. I get to manage my workload and use my talent. I get to find clients and try to sell my work. I am a writer!
I am getting better at writing.
I'm loving writing.
I'm not shy to say I write.
I'm not shy to say I write and sell articles.
I'm comfortable with my gift at last.
One day back in around 2004, I was looking for my next significant calling in life beyond being an Executive Assistant and then an at-home mom. I recall seeing a neighbour home during the day. I had never met her, but I began to imagine what I thought she did for a living. I can't explain why, but I imagined she was a writer. I didn't narrow down who she wrote for or where she got projects. I just imagined her life as a writer, if she indeed was one, must have been very fulfilling and high paying. I was actually jealous.
That was before I realized just how hard it is to get writing gigs and make sales. That was before I realized the publishing business was going into the dumper and writers were paid actually paid peanuts unless they were a major author. That was before I actually considered myself a writer. That was before I'd earned any money as a writer.
Well, as it turned out, this neighbour was not a writer. She'd been laid off from a job and was in between work as--guess what? An executive assistant!
What I find very funny is now I am that woman I imagined. I am a writer who gets to drink coffee at a comfy desk in a home office. I get to manage my workload and use my talent. I get to find clients and try to sell my work. I am a writer!
