“You’re a writer, Lee, so write.”
My uncle’s words. And exactly what I needed to hear.
I didn’t write in Asia, not seriously. I kept a personal journal to document my experience and a separate idea-journal for my next novel. There was no dedicated writing time each day and, as you might imagine, not much got done.
It seems foolish to say I missed the work, and it’s not exactly true. I enjoyed Southeast Asia. But I longed to settle long enough to get back to it.
Returning to some semblance of a regular schedule takes time after months away. Priorities have to find grounding again.
I applied for a part-time job as an English tutor, even interviewed and was offered the position, but the night before the employer said I had the job, I had a call with my uncle.
“A career as a writer is not going to come to you,” he said. “You have to go out and get it.”
I’m one of the lucky few who has a wife willing to support her penniless writer. There is one condition, however.
I have to give it my all.
After the call with my uncle, I had a conversation with my wife. She asked, “What do you need to be successful?”
I came to the answer quickly.
“Time.”
“Good,” she said. “Now get to work.”
I declined the job offer.
I’m more motivated than ever.
Throughout my decade of writing, I haven’t written nearly as much as I should have. I spent so much of that time, so much of the time when I was writing my novel, doubting myself, doubting my choice to be a writer, whether it was the difficulty of the writing process or the gloom that crept in at the corners saying I should focus on something else.
The past is gone. The future is hopeful. Only because I have today. Now. My decision to strive for this, this writing life, my pursuit of the words every day, is how I can achieve anything.
Dreaming of what could be must leave the mind and find the page to discover what will be.
Everything is working in my favor. Those closest to me support and believe in me. I’m healthy. I’m driven. I have an opportunity to work on what I love. To craft stories with words. To create vessels for meaning. To build myself.
Perhaps this newfound motivation is because I felt behind, or because I now have something to share immediately. A novel is done alone and takes years to send into the world. A Journal posted online is less time-consuming and can be shared right away.
Perhaps it’s that I have a clearer focus. An unobscured view of the path forward. I can see the place I want to go and the effort it will take to get there. And I say, I’m ready. I say, I’m going somewhere.
I say, I am a writer.
So I write.
Onward and upward,
Lee
