I used to call myself a writer. I no longer do this. At University I was a Communications Major with emphasis on Journalism. I wrote all the time; at the newspaper, for local student magazines, papers, articles, etc. The year I graduated and decided to move to NYC, I was offered three different internships: OUT magazine, Paper and Time Out. I couldn’t take any of them because they were unpaid. I couldn’t afford to live without having an income. I had zero savings and 25K in student loans. At that point, my dream of moving to
And so I came to NYC, but I moved on…working in non-profit, catering, advertising, finance; 10 years later and I’ve done a lot of things in NYC. But I haven’t done a lot of writing. Every year it is a New Year’s resolution and each year I fail miserably. IN 2008 I decided two things: I would write a blog about trying to get pregnant and life in general and I would take a writing class. Taking a class would also give me something else to focus on instead being obsessive about TTC.
My first class, Travel Writing, was this evening and I loved it! I’ve never been in an entire class full of people who would quit everything to go travel. They got it, this thing that I do; quitting jobs, taking leaves of absence, working freelance/temp assignments, saving all your money for ONE thing—the next big trip.
My mind has been jolted awake and my inner writer is coming back. I can’t wait to meet her again.