Chris & I were visiting my family recently and they asked how work was going.

“Whose work?” I asked.

“Well, I was asking Chris but you could answer that too, I guess.”

“My work is going really well,” I said slightly proud.

“Oh really? Are you writing anything?”

“Yes, and I’ve got quite a few projects that I’m working on and they’re rather exciting,” I said, trying not to reveal too much.

“What, like published projects?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Really?” they said in disbelief.

Even though I declared that I was going to write for a living, even though I told them in detail what my plan was and that I was going to achieve a goal, I don’t think they quite believed me.

If, however, I said I was going to climb the corporate ladder or strive for ‘x’ position in the company, or by 2002 I would have the biggest title one could imagine, I think, they would have understood that and believed me when I achieved that.

Writing hasn’t been seen as a profession in my family. And, to a large extent, still isn’t seen as such by the rest of the world.

That’s a large reason why I haven’t shared with them my website yet, or my publishing offers. It’s not that I’m afraid of their reaction, or even that it would be negative, but I think that right now, I need support and encouragement, and above all, the belief that this is possible. I need people who when hearing that I’m writing, have their ears perk up and their eyes open up and say “wonderful!” I need to hear that what I’m doing is worthwhile and real.

The hard part with regards to my family and some friends, is that they really think that I’m at home watching t.v. with my feet up. That I’m calling myself a writer to hide from “the real world” and that perhaps I’ll tire of this and go out and get a “real job.” This, they think, is just another one of my crazy schemes.

I’ve been corresponding with Keri, who is a fabulous illustrator, and she told me that she works harder now than she ever did in any office job, and that in fact, she’d like a weekend off one day. I understand that. For me, I am constantly writing. Each step I make outside gives me material to write about. I am composing articles in my sleep. My brain isn’t ever stopping and I can get up at sunrise and write until it’s dark - without realising it. I work so much harder now, because my job now, means so much more.

I feel that the way my family, and some of my friends view my work is like a double edged sword; on one hand it inspires me to work hard to prove them that I am a writer and that I can be published and get paid for what I write. But on the other hand, the fear of failing and hearing them say “see, now just go back to the office jobs” keeps me from writing.

I suppose that is why I am just keeping a little quieter around the people who don’t view what I’m doing in the most positive way. Because I have to do what I have to, and I don’t feel like defending it. I’ve made my choice, and now it’s time to show that it was the right one.

My idea is that when my first published article comes out this fall, I will send them each a copy of it, and say “I told you so. And this is only the beginning.”

Because really, it is.

The only way to really achieve your dream is to work hard and have a little patience. In the land where you can buy or do anything 24/7, patience can be hard.

It’s not that I thought I’d have overnight success, and it’s not that I thought I wouldn’t have to put out any effort, but I don’t think I realised all that living out a dream entails.

You think perhaps because you want it, and it’s in your heart to do it, that it should be easy. If you want to be a rock star all you think you have to do is have a little bit of talent and great hair and someone will sign you. You think if you want to be an actress all you have to do is get that one part and you’re set for life. Wanting it will help drive you, but it’s not enough to get you there.

Perhaps, people get discouraged from living out a dream or passion because they realise how much work really needs to take place. They think, “this should be fun, not work!” and that just because it’s your passion, you shouldn’t have to lift a finger.

The truth is, sometimes you lift more.

I’m currently working harder than I did in any office job because this matters. What I put out is me. What I write is a part of me. It’s all my reflections, experience, my passion, my heart. My work is 100% me. In my last jobs, I would throw numbers together that was somebody else’s, or collate other people’s papers, or staple mindless chunks of paper together. That work wasn’t me and so it didn’t matter.

Now, it matters and that can be a frightening thing if you’re not ready.

If you are ready then the fear will eventually subside a little and the rewards will start to appear. When you live the life you want to lead, and have to job to want to do, then everything seems more worthwhile. Not necessarily easier, but worthwhile and to me that is enough.

Even if I’m not getting paid for overtime.

It has been three months since I gave up my 9-5 world. Three months.

On the day I left my job, I wasn’t too sure what would happen. I didn’t have set out goals, I didn’t have a timeline, and I didn’t have any reference of what should or should not happen. It was all wide open.

Looking back now, I see I spent the first month or so being paralyzed by fear and self doubt. I didn’t make any progress writing wise because I was so completely afraid. I was fighting myself every day. I wanted to be a writer, I had chosen to be a writer, but I hadn’t convinced my brain yet that I was.

In the second month, I think my brain and heart met somewhere and started working together. My writing went from being a little idea, to being something real. And instead of being so overwhelmed and confused, I focused my energy in one direction. I focused on learning to write for magazines.

The third month was the biggest transformation for me yet. It’s when I looked at the big picture.

Instead of just focusing on how to write nice words on paper, I focused on how to transform my life on the outside to match what I was feeling on the inside. On the inside, I was feeling alive, passionate, colourful, creative, happy, joyful, excited. I was just bouncing off walls on the inside.

However, on the outside, it was all the same. My lifestyle, my home, my friends, were all the same as when I was living in the 9-5 world. I had to change that. I felt that if I was going to keep believing that I was a writer, I had to make it look like I was a writer. If I kept telling myself that I belonged in the art world, I had to be brave and make it look so. I think before I hadn’t committed to making the outside match the inside for fear that if I ran away from writing, I would be left with surroundings of a writer. It was almost like a commitment I couldn’t make.

But, now, I was ready. So I painted some furniture a bright raspberry colour, I bought some artwork that I had loved and hung it on my walls. I made my office brighter and more alive with all my supplies at hand. I brought my colourful books forth instead of keeping them in a closet. I’ve somehow managed to become surrounded by the most amazing, wonderful people because I reached out to them and they responded in a positive way. I’ve been to art fests, I’ve gone to listen to live music and theatre. I’ve painted and put my work up on the walls. I’m painting the apartment in dangerous colours. I’m wearing a SuperHero bracelet that is big and bold and beautiful instead of quiet, little, muted beads. I’m sitting in cafe’s sipping mochas and writing in a little notebook, by myself

This transformation, of matching how I feel on the inside to the outside, has been for me, the most amazing thing thus far. It’s really helped to solidify who I am right now and what I want. I don’t think I could have done this in month one, or if I had, I don’t think I could have appreciated it and done it from the heart.

I once found a poem, that shows the learning curve of what happens in life. And I’ve found that it’s pretty fitting to the changes I’ve gone through.

Autobiography in Five Short Chapters. By Portia Nelson

I
I walk down the street.
There is a deep Hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost… I am helpless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.

II
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I am in the same place
But it isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

III
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in… it’s a habit.
My eyes are open
I know where I am
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

IV
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

V
I walk down another street.

When I began my journey, I felt hopeless and lost. I kept falling into that same damn hole all the time. Sometimes I didn’t’ want to get out because although it felt horrible, it was familiar. And familiar can be comfortable. But, at some point, I looked around. I knew that’s not where I needed to be.

And then one day, after having enough of that hole, I found another street. And how amazing this street is.

I was talking with someone the other day about how I had recently changed careers. I told her how I was, for the first time in my life, doing a job that not only was I good at, but also loved. I told her how excited I was each day at the prospect of writing.

“I’m envious,” she said to me. “I would like to have a job that I was good at and loved. But I don’t think I could give up the security I have right now or put myself through all that stress. I’m far too scared.”

“Me too.” I said.

“You’re scared?” she asked in disbelief. “But you seem so happy and when you were talking to me about it, you seemed so confident.”

“I’m scared everyday,” I said. “Every day is different. I don’t know if I’ll be able to write that day or if I do, if it will be any good. I’m scared of people’s reactions to me when I say that I write-not all of it is positive, you know. I’m scared that the love and passion I’m having for all of this right now will fade in time. I’m scared that I might have to be an office girl again one day. I’m scared of sounding corny or above myself. I’m scared of my pen running out of ink when I start to write down the most brilliant thought ever. I’m scared of the mailman delivering me back my writings with a big NO marked on them.”

“For someone who has so many fears, you definitely seem very brave,” she said to me. “I wouldn’t have known you had fears. You hide them pretty well.”

I do now, I thought. I had to make peace with the fears because I learned that they will always be there. Mark Twain once said, “Courage is the resistance to fear, not the absence of it.” Fear is always going to be around, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Fear can be useful at times, as long as it doesn’t paralyse you or prevent you from doing what you can do.

The fear won’t ever go away, but my giving into it has.

When you can get the ball rolling, it doesn’t seem to want to stop. The trick is, to getting it rolling in a positive direction.

Before I took the plunge of doing what I wanted to do instead of doing what I thought I should do, I had so much fear and self-doubt inside of me. All I could think about was the “can’t do’s” because my mind wasn’t open enough to think of all the “can do’s.” I couldn’t imagine ever leaving the life I had, despite the fact it left me empty, angry, and unfulfilled. I didn’t think I could ever do what I wanted because I couldn’t get past my list of “can’t do’s” and “won’t happen.” I could never make it past the overwhelming sense of fear I had and so I never made attempts at changing my life’s direction because I was afraid of so many things - especially of failing. I wasn’t able to recognise that by being untrue to myself, I was already failing.

My mind just focused on the fear and the negative. Even though I wanted to change my job and follow my passion, I had no idea how to see the “can do’s” and “will happen” because what I wanted, seemed to impossible.

However, when I finally made the decision to quit my corporate world, jeopardize what people thought of me, and give up security, the impossible started to happen. And when the impossible started to happen, my mind switched gears and I started to think that if this could happen, then why not that? My mind started to become filled with can do’s and will happen. At the beginning, I’d have maybe one new idea or want each day, but that one thing would snowball into 5 more things, and soon enough, I was full of ideas, aspirations, new friendships, positive vibes and opportunities I didn’t know were there before!

The fear had been building and building and it had built itself so high that it was hard to see anything on the other side of it. And in the beginning of living out my passion, the fear was still there, every day. But each day, by fighting it and making small attempts, I could see over the fear and see the good ideas and the new ways of doing things on the other side.

So many people never make attempts and follow the life they should lead because they don’t have all the answers up front. If they could just make one small change, one attempt, the ripple effect from that would be amazing. I’m proof of that.

There is always something to learn if you’re willing. And currently, I’m more than willing.

I have been to my local bookstore and purchased various books on writing - specifically how to write for magazines. I took some time awhile ago to focus on what I wanted to write for and I decided that I wanted to test my writing skills for magazines. I think I was either on target or incredibly naive when I came to that conclusion.

The books I’ve bought, however, have been helping me to understand what it takes to write for a magazine. I think I have the basic skill and good ideas, I just have to learn how to polish everything and how to get into the business side of it. I am looking forward to this challenge; it seems not so much overwhelming as it does perfectly normal.

So my last few days have been spent reading and learning. I’ve decided to put myself into a basic home schooling routine where I learn, study and test myself. One thing about living out your dream is when you decide to do it, when you really decide, you heart feels so open and so blessed you don’t necessarily see all the work involved. That is probably a good thing.

I am, however, quiet enthralled with all that I’m doing, even if it’s new or scary or I end up feeling just a little stupid at the end of the day. I feel like this is what I should be doing now, instead of this is what I want to be doing. I’m not sure when the subtle shift happened, but it did.

I didn’t know that box existed or I would have opened it up a long time ago. But today I discovered it in the pile with all the other moving boxes. Finding this one was like finding buried treasured. I wasn’t supposed to have it, I didn’t even know it still existed. I can’t remember ever having it, but I did.

It was a box filled with my school year books. It was filled with my baby book and pictures I had made when I was younger. It was certificates, letters and cards from my childhood. And most of all, it had all my old journals from when I was 9 and all of my old writings.

Piles and piles of writings I had done. Short stories, poems, novels, everything was in this box.

Sifting through it all was a very strange and emotional and experience, since I had no idea all this existed. It had been my belief that I had left this all behind in another country - the last time I had seen any of this was more than 10 years ago. But now, I was holding a story I had written when I was 10, and that was the strangest thing in the world to me.

Seeing all the writing I had done, “just for fun” made me realise how important writing has always been to me. It’s only been in my adult life that I hid it, for reasons too many. Reading my journals, all I listed was that I wanted to be a “writer when I grow up.” I had no idea I thought that way.

This box was filled with things that had such determination, such a belief of success, so many attempts and great big dreams that I was in shock. Did I really feel that invincible when I was younger? I suppose when we’re young, we all do.

In my yearbook, next to my graduation picture, I had written as my grad comment, “I will live and I will succeed. Really.”

Looking back, I know I didn’t write that with a sense of arrogance, but with a belief that anything I wanted to do was possible. Somewhere along the line I forgot that. Somewhere along the line I forgot to do what I love to do.

How lucky I remembered.

There are boxes that need to be unpacked, furniture that has to be arranged, and grocery shopping that has to be done. But I’m making it wait because I have more important things to do today. Like my art.

When I decided to do writing full time, what I actually wanted to do was art full time. Writing would be the focus because I believe that’s where the majority of my talent lies and it’s the easiest thing for me to do. However, I’ve wanted to become more creative and artistically free, and so I decided, a little fearfully, to embrace art.

I’ve handed myself some weapons-a book, some paint, some furniture, some canvas, pencils, pens, and an imagination. Armed and (hopefully) dangerous, I’m going to start to create whatever I want.

Jumping into art, however, is a bit intimidating. As a person who can only draw stick figures, and whose apartment is in all shades of bland, I feel it’s an almost daunting task to create and come alive artistically. I want to be able to just jump into everything, have an apartment filled with finished art projects, and be at the top level of creation. I know, though, that I have to start somewhere, and that somewhere needs to be small.

So, the other day I transformed an old, beaten-up wooden chair into a stunning bright raspberry-coloured masterpiece. All I did was paint it one colour, but I felt proud because not only had I chosen such a bold colour, but because I had done something. Doing that one thing got my mind humming with more ideas.

Since then, I’ve been going to paint shops and getting paint chips to decide which colours will go on what walls in my apartment. Instead of buying art, I’ve decided to try to make some of my own, frame it, and hang it on my walls. And I’ve also decided to sign up for an art class, because I’m now only a couple of blocks away from the local Arts Centre. And I’m hoping that I’ll be able to volunteer there as well.

I’ve been a shadow artist for so long-always admiring others works and never feeling like I could be one of them. I have always been drawn to artists and their art, but I never embraced any of it because I felt that I wasn’t very good, and so what right did I have to try to be a part of it? I never attempted art because I thought that I should leave creating to “real artists.” I always failed before I tried, and that has bothered me for a very long time.

I think if you have a passion, a longing, or even just a tiny place in your heart for something, you should embrace it, even if it’s scary or you feel it’s out of your league. Just painting one chair, one simple chair made me feel better than any longing ever did.

It made me wonder why it took me so long to begin.