After years of working as a Paralegal, meeting deadlines, dealing with difficult personalities and whatever else that comes along with employment in a law firm, I’ve finally reached a point where I’m now working part-time. Yes, I still deal with some factors of the law, but my duties have become less urgent. Don’t get me wrong, some attorneys will always be difficult, but maybe it’s my years in the field that have enabled me to take it all with a grain of salt. So, I said all of that to say, my desk faces toward the outside – I have a very nice view of everything going on in my little corner of the Corporate Center. The other day I took a breather – actually the entire day evolved as one needing deep thought. Did you ever have one of those? From the time I woke up everything I did needed questioning. Especially, this putting words to paper thing some of us like to do. At one point in my life I feared I had slipped away from my faith, but after thinking about it for a couple of days, I realized how far from the truth that had been. Why? Because the more I turned it over in my mind, the more I understood – I spent all my time thinking about just that faith. Yes, it consumed my thoughts, which let me know I had not veered off the path.
As I sat back in my chair, I kind of had the same urgency about my writing. Am I dedicated enough to keep the fire going, particularly with Facebook, Twitter and this blog? I spend a lot of time on all three, and then wind up kicking myself, because I’ve lost more time to doing everything but write. But, like the belief issue, every waking hour; every extra minute, all I do is think about my stories. Now, I know thinking about them is not the same as getting them written, but I believe that’s just me. We all have a process to how we approach a project. At that same instant, I knew that if for some reason I couldn’t write anymore, what a blow that would bring. However, keep in mind I don’t say that to idolize the gift. I bring it up mainly, because I am consumed with concocting new stories, and am so very thankful for the ability. We all – each of us were given a specific gift. I read that whatever you are passionate about is usually where your specialty lies. And take it from me, if you are on the young side of forty, you still don’t know. Oh sure, a person comes out of high school, picks a major, goes into college and comes out, hopefully to a career. But, I say those professions are 50% of the time chosen by the head, and not the heart. Many of us need to arrive on the opposite side of that magical number of forty to finally figure out what it is we desire out of life.
I know I wrote somewhere that I played around with the art of writing all of my life. But, I had to reach the other side of that above-mentioned figure to grasp, this particular art had been my calling. At that point, I knew with certainty all the road signs had my name on them. I only had to shine the light, and continue to put one foot before the other, even if I did teeter-totter with each step. In the process of having this conversation with myself, I came up with even more ideas for other short stories. This is what I mean, it’s a consuming process, and if I were – let’s say – placed in some form of isolation, it wouldn’t matter, as long as I could write.
Have you figured out what ignites your passion? Since at my age I’m still aspiring, I have this nagging in my gut telling me God wants to use me as an example – sort of like saying that a person can still bear fruit, even at an older age. But really, do yourself a favor, find the passion – I think it’s imperative you find it early on, because life really is too short to go around day after day in mediocrity, and then, when you do, dive in head first. However, either way you look at it, that’s what I’ve found about myself; what all writers learn of themselves I think – they love to write. Although, the heading of this post is a favorite line from the movie “Throw Momma From The Train,” it should be a mantra for all writers. When I think back on all the years I spent miserable in my job – thirty-five or over forty, I’m glad I decided to look into turning this one time hobby into something serious. Now, if God would only listen when I say – “Hello, I’m ready.” At which point you would then hear from me, “Roger, go at throttle up.”
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