Rediscovering My Purpose, On Purpose
I am sitting here right now because I promised myself I would. When I was a child, I had no doubt that I would be a writer. I was a writer. As soon as I could spell I would fill notebook pages with stories, poems, and sometimes songs. I would watch award shows and dream that maybe somehow I could be part of all that. I didn’t want to be on stage, but I wanted to play a role. I wanted to have something I created, or contributed to have a part in something bigger, something important. Something that mattered.
But how can you create something that matters, unless you matter first?
I was a good kid for the most part. If I was in trouble, it was either because I had made a mess, failed to clean it up properly, showed up late somewhere, or had my head in my writing when it was supposed to be somewhere else.
I loved learning, but I didn’t feel like I was learning much, hardly ever. Writing was so much more important. Some teachers caught on that what I was writing most of the time was not notes for their class, but dialogue in my story. The characters I created were better friends to be than most of my classmates. If they had something to say didn’t I owe it to them to help them say it before it was lost?
My rebellious writing went on far beyond school. When I worked in office environments, I would keep a small…
