“A writer is a writer not because she writes well and easily, because she has amazing talent, because everything she does is golden. In my view a writer is a writer because even when there is no hope, even when nothing you do shows any sign of promise, you keep writing anyway.”
– Junot Diaz, from his essay “The List”
There was a time, not so long ago, when I was ready to quit writing. My dream since childhood. The one true thing I knew about myself – or so I thought.
I was a thirty-eight year old stay at home mom living in Brooklyn, New York. My daughter was in kindergarten and I spent my days caring for my toddler son. All seemed well except we were barely scraping by on my husband’s erratic real estate salary. I couldn’t help feeling guilty, wishing I could do more to help.
The truth is I was doing plenty by being the primary caregiver to our kids, but the world places an emphasis on financial viability, as does city living, and I began to wonder if I had made a terrible mistake chasing my writing dream instead of building a practical career.
As my family struggled with big questions about the future, I felt a question of my own take root inside my heart like a stubborn weed.
What if being a writer was not my destiny, but just a story I’d been telling myself? « Continue »