Two years ago I was walking my dogs to the park on a warm, summer’s day when I heard a loud, succinct voice say, “you have to write”. That’s all he said, “you have to write”. I looked behind me to see who it was, but there was simply no one to be seen. That voice was very confident and almost forceful, as thought he were about to throw his hands up with me once and for all if I didn’t heed the signs I’d been shown for years. “For f*ck’s sake, lady, would just JUST freakin’ write?!”

I admit, I’ve ignored many a sign. Over the years, I’ve had subtle, not-so-subtle, and out-and-out blatant signs telling me that I should write for a living. Of course I ignored them all because I didn’t have the confidence to believe that they were steering me in the right direction. ‘Am I just thinking that because I want it to be true, or is it actually a sign?’

I think too much.

Is this the year when I’m able to leave my guilt behind and step into the future of living out my dream? What is it about that whole ‘live your dream’ thing that causes me so much upset? I think it stems back to my parents (man, they are so fun to blame for everything, aren’t they?), and the idea that one has to work hard and contribute to society, and that ‘living your dream’ is just an excuse to be a lazy, out-of-work bum. I feel bad enough that I’m not raking in the big bucks, and to add writing to that just makes me feel like a big, fat, selfish jerkface.

I’m not a jerkface, am I?

Am I?

Don’t answer that.