Writer's block

I never much knew what I wanted to be when I grew up. I mean, in high school I was convinced I wanted to be a film director, but that was all about the fantasy of the job, and not at all about the reality. In a practical sense, I never had a clear vision of what I'd do to make a living, and more importantly, what I'd do to make a happy living.

I think writing became my default somewhere along the way. I was relatively good at it. I could churn out a paper in college in record time, and still get a pretty good grade on it. And after I graduated, I didn't have too much trouble getting little jobs here and there writing for various publications. I seemed to have a bit of a knack for it, though I mostly felt like I had no idea what I was doing. Like an impostor.

Then came the newspaper internship, followed by the full blown full time job as a staff reporter. I found both a place of employment and a job that were perfect for me at that time in my life, even if I felt my natural abilities weren't in journalism. I mean, I'd get so nervous before making some phone calls that I'd want to throw up. Okay, maybe not throw up, but it would stress the hell out of me. Seriously, I'm not the girl that likes to ask the tough questions. But luckily, I didn't often have to in that position. At least half, I'd say, of my time was spent writing about the art and music and entertainment that I loved. And as for the rest, people were generally pretty candid with me, not evasive, so I never felt like I was trying to beat important information out of them with a stick.

When I left that paper for Chicago, I was certain that my career would take me in another direction. Public relations jobs were on my radar, and jobs in publishing. But I didn't have a well-formed idea of what those careers would entail, nor any idea how to make the transition (naive, I believe, is the word for it.) And once I got to Chicago, that was all beside the point anyway. I couldn't make a career change because I couldn't even get a potential employer to call me back. I got nothing. Nada. Barely a nibble, apart from some networking meetings, in two months.

And then I got a waitressing job. So much for a glamorous career change.

But that was okay, because a couple weeks later, I was offered a temporary writing job. It wasn't exactly what I had envisioned, but hey, falling back on the writing thing, at that point, did not seem like the worst option. I was pretty good at it. I had enjoyed writing at the Gazette. It was better than waiting tables.

And then a couple months later, I got another offer, even closer to the life I'd left. It was a reporting job, and it was permanent. I've done this before, I thought. I could do it again.

So I took it. Happily. But I soon came to realize that all those qualities in me that had made journalism a not-perfect fit in my first job were not going away. They came back with a vengeance. And once again, it stressed the living crap out of me.

I found myself needing to be much more assertive, to ask those hard questions, to dig up hard news, to get those tricky answers. I still had the opportunity to write some of the feature stories I had loved writing so much before (though I'm sure my editor would have preferred a little more hard news out of me than human interest) but the other stuff, namely crime reporting, was so in conflict with my personality that I began to actively dread it. And yet it often dominated my workload. I'd churn out the feature work quickly, getting it out of the way to focus on the stuff that felt so foreign to me.

Then something happened. This was not a turning point, it merely brought a few things more clearly into focus for me. I hesitate to be very specific, because if certain people read this, it might sound like I'm playing the blame game. I'm not. I don't blame anyone else for this. It is all about me, and about drawing my own lines, even when they're not the same as anybody else's.

But to continue on this annoyingly vague streak, I was asked to do something (not ordered, but asked) that I simply could not do. I immediately refused. And then I walked away and thought about it, and thought about it some more. And the more I reflected, the more I knew it would never be something that I could do. And honestly, in this industry, as it is in this day and age, it's something I was going to have to do, at some point. But to me, I don't know, it just felt like it wouldn't be very polite. Bad manners, I guess you could say.

The incident is not what prompted me to quit my job or move back to Massachusetts or make any rash decisions. This life change has been a discussion that has been in the works for a long time, evolving and changing and coming out looking totally different than I might have expected two or four or six months ago.

But now here I am, once again on the cusp of great change. And other career options are churning around in my head, ones I might never have entertained a year or two ago. I hope that I have the gumption to continue pursuing that change, whatever it may turn out to be. I hope that I do not panic, and fall back into default mode, and go back to something because I know I can. I feel so ready right now to take the time to finally pursue something I both know I can do and know I can love at the same time. If I have to work as a waitress again to keep myself afloat through my search, then so be it. I hope that I refuse to let myself feel that I'm failing or moving backwards. Isn't there some quote, somewhere out there, that says something about having to get through some crappier times on your way to something extraordinary? If there is such a quote, it probably does not include the word "crappier." But anyway.

I realize that I am rambling here. But I've been stressing myself out so much lately, and sometimes sad, sometimes bitter, sometimes full of self-doubt. I liked the happy times sprinkled throughout so much better. And I'm determined to be happy, more often, starting now. What better time to make such grand resolutions than right on the brink of great change? (Or on New Year's eve, if you're determined not to keep those resolutions.)

So anyway, those are just some thoughts for the day. I'd love to hear your take.