When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a writer.
If there was a writing assignment in school I could not wait to get home and start writing. If there was a letter to be written I would volunteer and after every vacation I would ponder the best way to bring all my adventures to paper.
When I got older and it was time to think about what I wanted "to be when I grow up" my parents *encouraged* me to choose a real profession, nothing artsy like writing, because especially in my father's mind free thinking and being creative produces nothing but terrorists. I never understood how he came to that conclusion, I can only assume that the creative process was a threat to him.
I savoured each and every writing assignment in college and after that I said goodbye to my dream of writing.
However, it kept creeping back into my life every chance it got. A business letter, an incentive plan, an advertising campaign, website copy or a letter to the editor.
About one year after we moved to Canada I went to the local art gallery and started talking to one of the artists there. She asked me if I was a painter as well and I answered "No, I am a writer."
I have written almost ever day since then. I put myself out there and wrote books, blogs, website copy, magazine articles, press releases... and there is nothing else that makes me quite as happy.
I am still not a full-time writer and I don't think I will ever be. But I have come to realize that writing is a part of who I am and who I want to be. I love explaining things, writing stories, being funny - I really love writing funny stuff - and I love translating my experiences and feelings in my job-related projects into words.
I am a writer.