I always wanted to be one of those people that knew what they were going to be when they grew up. Like someone who liked to build things out of Lego's when they were six years old and later became an architect. Or someone who was fascinated by dinosaurs and became a renowned paleontologist. I figured since I couldn't go back to my toddler days, this dream was impossible. It never occurred to me that it had been there waiting for me to wake up.
About a year and a half ago, I was sitting with my best friend in her back yard. We were sipping wine and fantasising about what we could do for the rest of our lives if nothing was holding us back. At the time, I had been going to Grand Rapids Community College for about 4 years, taking one class a semester and not really knowing what to do with my life. The thought of even having a degree was a fantasy.
I remember going through the list of things I enjoy doing: reading, writing, (no arithmetic please) nit-picking, putzing, and sometimes too much attention to detail. I turned to my fiend and it hit me like a ton of bricks.
Then came the inevitable self-doubt: Can I do this? Am I good enough? How do I get started? I'm in way over my head here. A few days went by and I wrote in my journal. Another ton of bricks came through: I've been writing since elementary school! Short stories and poems. I've also kept a journal since the age of twelve. I am one of those people that started their future career as a child. It was right in front of me for so long. When my current job was frustrating, I'd write about it. When the guy that I was currently dating gave me a headache, I'd write about it. When I had great news or accomplished something, I'd write about it. The trouble I was having deciding on a career? Yup, I'd write about that too.
So here I am, an official sophmore at GRCC at 27 years old and I finally know what I want to be when I grow up: a writer. And this is how I got started.
