The Calling (not the band variety)

I've been really disenchanted with school lately. It kind of sucks being in school when you have no intention of ever working in a particular field. I am pretty much getting a degree in order to improve my chances of getting employment until I can support myself by writing. Even though I'm young, I am a quick study and I love learning about writing and publishing. I'm always trying to improve my craft, and I know that I'll be successful one day. Do I have dreams of being the next Stephen King? No. Well, okay, yes, but I know those aren't realistic dreams. But do I think I can sell a novel or two a year with a good advance, and probably have the sales actually cover the advance? Yes, I think so. Not this year or next, but in the near future.

See, I put aside my dream of writing for psychology. When I was fourteen I decided I wanted to be a writer. When I was sixteen I remember walking on the beach of Lake Michigan thinking about how one day I would have a house on a beach somewhere and sit at my desk with a cup of tea on my desk and a dog on my feet, and I would write for hours, and I would love every minute of it. Then I had a teacher tell me I didn't have the balls to deal with rejection, and my mom told me writing isn't real career anyway, so I pushed it aside. Well, it took six years, but I'm back and I'm determined that this is my calling. I tried to do the "real profession" thing, and I did learn invaluable things from my study of psychology, but at this point classes are old hat and I'm both stressed and underwhelmed.

I've been miserable all week praying for the end of the semester to come quickly. I have a 15 page research paper I have yet to start. During class I worked on the third book in the Nexus trilogy, as I've been doing since starting graduate school (what can I say, I'm a bad student), and every time I had to pay attention or answer a question I was annoyed that my writing was being interrupted! I was wallowing all afternoon and evening procrastinating (still haven't started the paper, or the grading, or anything) and finally decided I would type up what I wrote today. I realized while I was typing it up that it made me so happy! I wasn't even writing anything new, just typing what I had written earlier, and I was loving every word of it! I love figuring out the best choice of words, and I love tweaking and being clever and trying to intrigue people. While sitting here typing, my depression melted away.

And then, of course, I started thinking about how terrible tomorrow is going to be, what with writing that paper and grading a stack of undergrad exams, and all the other crap I have to do. I think this is a sign that this is what I'm meant to do. Face it, I'm lazy as can be. It's a good thing I'm smart, otherwise I never would have gotten through college. I am used to half-assing, and the only thing I really don't half ass is writing, because I love putting my all into a story and seeing it take shape and turn into something great. THAT is how I know this is what I'm meant to do.