When I tell people that we’re moving, that Nathan got a postdoc, and that we’ll be gone for 2.5 years, the conversation inevitably turns to what I will be doing in England while we’re there. My answers vary from extremely sarcastic to the truth.
“I’m thinking of just being a bohemian trophy wife.”
“I’ll probably get a part-time library job after a while.”
“I’d love to learn some languages and follow my heart.”
“I want to try writing.”
It is often embarrassing to admit I want to try writing, depending on who I’m talking to. It is 75% of the time followed up with, “But I’m not very good” or “I’ll probably fail,” or “It will be fun to at least try,”… some sort of disclaimer that I don’t REALLY think I could do it so people don’t think I’m getting carried away.
But I used to write a lot and I do, really think I’m moderately good at it. In the sense that I can convey meaning to people. I think I can be entertaining. I think I can be fun.
Besides a recent hiatus in graduate school, writing is something I’ve done pretty consistently for the past 5-10 years, but I’ve never thought of it as a serious profession, because I’ve always imagined that means sitting down to write the next Great American Novel which terrifies me. I don’t HAVE a novel I’ve always wanted to write, which has often made me feel like I’m not really a writer. That I lack some sort of grand, purposeful inspiration.
But that isn’t what writing is for me. For me, writing has always been about experiences, whether it is travels, or books, or my day-to-day life. It’s been a way for me to share the things that make me happiest and understand them in a new way. I really, really just enjoy blogging. I want to be a travel blogger. I want to learn how to use one of those big, bulky cameras people carry around with them. I want to get on a different train every day and take pictures of sheep, cathedrals, crumbling walls, French bread. And then I want to tell you about them.
I want to try and build a portfolio. I want to try little freelance assignments here and there; I want to make my first $20 from MY WRITING. I want to hold some money that someone gave me because I put the right words in the right places. I want to be paid to write, and I also want to travel blog. Maybe someday those two things could be the same thing.
When Nathan and I were in NYC we went to an Improv club called The Pit and saw some of the worst, most unfunny improv we’ve ever seen. It was laughingly bad. It was 2-guys-on-a-stage-in-front-of-8-people-pretending-to-eat-each-others-organs-made-of-popcorn bad. And as I sat there, watching that horrible improv, I thought, hey, they’re doing it. And I started laughing because these two weirdos are on a stage in New York City doing what they probably have dreamed of doing for a while. And they suck. But they’re doing it! And if they can do shitty improv, I think I can write.
So that’s what I want to do. I guess we’ll see if I’m brave enough to actually do it.
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