"I'm crazy, indeed. So what?"
Those were my first words after my husband finished his thirty-minute speech on my madness and irresponsibility. There was not much I could do besides hearing him speak, anyway. I couldn't call my boss and take it back.
"I quit and I won't be back. Now, my writing career will have to work, one way or another."
Inside of me there was fear, of course. A lot. And also anxiety. But there was also relief, because I was finally free.
Free from a boss who underestimated me for five years. Free from a place where I was supposed to work just out of pleasure, because wanting more money was seen as something intrinsically wrong. And I derived pleasure from teaching, hell, I did. But I also needed the money.
And, if I am supposed to do something for pleasure instead of business, than writing will always be my choice.
Creating stories is what I've done since I've learned how to write. It's my dream career.
It doesn't pay well, they say. But hey, what I was doing also didn't pay well, and I was there, doing it, right?
So I quit. It was my birthday present to myself.
But, even though I only had the guts to do it now, I've been thinking about it for the last three years.
A brief pause to explain my writing story
It all started when a friend died. She was young, younger than I am. She found out she was sick two weeks before she died. She had absolutely no choice of changing the course of her destiny, and she was not sad about it. She said, "if I have to die now, no problem. I'll die. I've lived a happy life and I've done what I wanted."
My God. That was hard to hear. Not only because she was accepting a fate we all knew would come (she had tiny chances of recovery), but also because I had accomplished so much more than she had, and I didn't feel that way. If I were her, I would be crying my eyes out. I'd be desperate, thinking of a thousand things I still had on my to-do-while-I'm-alive list. And one of them... No, not one of them... The top one of them was publishing my book.
By "my book" I mean any book. Because I had started thousands, and finished none. I had doubted myself and my abilities for too long. I mirrored my boss's thoughts, I looked at myself thinking "you're not good enough" just like he did, and it wasn't fair.
It's not fair doubting yourself.
That was when I met someone who is essential in my life nowadays. Stephanie Colbert, an author, and now a friend, who believed me when nobody else did. And I owe it to her to publish my first book, even if I didn't owe it to myself. Thanks, Steph!
If you're reading this because you doubt yourself, because you doubt your English skills, because you think you will never be able to get by on writing, I'll tell you. You will. We will.
Let's do it. Learn from my mistakes, give me your opinions, follow the path as I do. You don't have to quit your job - although I suggest you do it, if your boss is like mine.
Let's build a novel in English from scratch. Together.