I’m a not a journalism graduate nor a holder of an English degree. Writing was not a passion, to begin with, but then, I like to read. I read a lot. I even squeeze in some reading time in between work hours because my always sleepy brain wouldn’t work unless I get to read something before the shift starts and right after lunch, or else I’ll dose off.
Reading is like my daily dose of caffeine. It’s like the smell of a freshly brewed coffee that awakens my senses. So reading, for most part, is what I consider something am truly passionate about.
I don’t have a creative mind, either; but it is filled with lots of ideas, thoughts and observations which I suppose I got from reading too much. But all these things haven’t fuelled the creativity in me when I was young, they had, however, urged me to take my pen out and scramble them into words.
And that’s how all the writing began.
I started with a diary when I was in grade school and it continued until I was in junior high school. Then, I stopped. I couldn’t exactly figure out the reason behind the cessation because it was over a decade ago, but I was definitely sure of its therapeutic result. Not that I had any kind of inner turmoil or any emotional disorder of that sort when I was a child, writing just felt so relaxing that time – and it is until now.
Mind you, the feelings you get when you write down your thoughts and emotions on a paper, they are simply incredible.
Then came all the writing activities in school which lasted up to college. I was not happy doing any one of them. In fact, I loathed them. Writing essays, research papers, formal themes, and all sort of writing activities in between bored me to death.
However, I couldn’t be any more grateful because those dreadful English classes were the ultimate reasons why I have good English skills today.
So much about that, let’s fast forward to some years ago where my writing career began…
I was a nurse by profession but never had the chance to practice it. So as with any fresh grads looking for a good paycheck, I searched for jobs where I can earn and use my potential at the same time. So I ended up as an English instructor. It was fun at first but it wasn’t as interesting as it used to be a year later; and it got more tedious after another year has passed.
I don’t know if I should consider myself fortunate that it only took me three years to realize I can work as a writer, as others would have let a decade or so to pass before they pursue a career they’re truly happy with.
Or unfortunate because I wasted almost three years in a job that wasn’t making me happy.
Anyway, if I haven’t taken the risk to apply as a freelance writer, as this is how my writing gig began, working as a freelancer in Odesk/Upwork, I wouldn’t have this thing I can call a career now.
So when people ask me what do I do, I tell them I’m a writer. A web content writer/blogger, for that matter.
I’m far from being an excellent writer. There are so much to improve, so many tips to grasp, so many do’s and don’ts to remember, but it would certainly be my pleasure to learn all of them.
And because writing has turned into a passion, now I’m absolute it is something I’m truly passionate about, next to reading of course, I could imagine myself churning out words for the years to come.