This year marks a big high school reunion for me. You know, one of those milestones that end in a zero? Let’s just say that it’s made me do a lot of thinking about life and my current position relative to where I thought or hoped I’d be.
When I graduated from high school, the next step was easy: go to college. Once there, I chose a major that seemed like it would be interesting (translation: paid well without compromising my moral values). This major changed a couple of times, and I picked up an extra along the way. No big deal. After all, what one learns in college rarely has a real bearing on what you actually do for a living, right?
Not so in my case. I earned a degree in professional writing, intending to support myself as a business writer while I penned novels on the side. And that was exactly what happened – except for the penning novels part.
Like so many well-meaning, idealistic and – frankly – naive young people, I decided to follow a practical route first, assuming that I’d eventually reach a level of financial security where I could do what I really enjoyed, which happens to be writing fiction. Taking this path has led to a wonderful life in many respects, although it has delayed the progress of my fiction career.
Sure, I’m young now. However, by the time I finish this current manuscript, find an agent, sell the novel, and finish umpteen rounds of revisions, years will pass before this sucker ever makes it into print. That’s a best-case scenario.
This tells me that I’d better get cracking now because I’m not getting any younger, and I’ve got a lot of stories that are eager to burst forth at this point, word by agonizing word.
This cold reality strikes me as I reconnect with various people from my past via Facebook and other sites. Many of my peers have built successful, traditional careers for themselves. But a handful of others have followed their passions and created rich, fulfilling lives doing exactly what they aspired to do from the start.
I do not regret my choices. They have molded me into who I am and given me a wealth of material from which to draw for inspiration. At this point, I’m still young enough that I could leave behind a prolific literary legacy, assuming I forge ahead and overcome my inner resistance.
Even as I’m daunted by the prospect of pursuing my passions at this (relatively) late date, I can only offer a prayer of thanks that I didn’t dream of becoming a fashion model or pop diva, both of which have a much shorter window of opportunity.
