As a child, I grew up in a suburb right outside of Dallas. My dad worked as a mechanic and my mom worked as a teacher’s assistant at a local elementary school. Needlessly to say, I did not grow up with a lot of money.
Don’t get me wrong, I have never once gone without. My parents worked incredibly hard to ensure that my two older sisters and I had everything we needed. We were always fed and dressed well. We visited the doctor and the dentist regularly.
While my parents worked hard to ensure that our needs (and some of our wants) were met, they were not as concerned about spending their hard-earned money on frivolous things such as extravagant vacations.
The only vacations I ever went on as a child took place inside the pages of a library book.
Books became my gateway to the world. I explored Hogwarts with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. I ran through Green Gables with Anne Shirley. I swam down the chocolate river with Charlie and Willy Wonka. I went on dozens of adventures all because I was fortunate enough to discover the magic of books.
I read so much, that by the time I was nine-years-old, I decided that I wanted to be a writer. I dreamed of one day crafting a book that would help some other little girl like me go on a grand adventure.
Soon after this revelation, I went to my mom and announced that when I grew up I was going to be a writer. Now, my mom is a special woman. She told me that if I wanted to be a writer that I should go out and be a writer.
Other adults, on the other hand, were not as accepting.
At nine-years-old, when I would tell adults that I wanted to be a writer, they would glance at me with the same expression that I frequently saw thrown at the boys who claimed that they were going to be professional athletes. Their eyes seemed to say, “This poor girl is so cute and sweet. She thinks she can be a writer!”
As I grew older, this look morphed into something more disdainful. I was frequently asked how I was planning on supporting myself until I released my critically acclaimed novel or what I would do if I am never published.
Even now, I am still bombarded by questions: What exactly are you planning to do with an English degree? How will literature and creative writing help you in the real world?
I am not a fool. I am more than aware that saying that I want to be a writer is no different than saying I want to be a supermodel or a professional athlete. The odds of achieving “success” is against me.
I recently read a novel called Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear, written by Elizabeth Gilbert, the author of Eat, Pray, Love. On the topic of success and failure, she wrote:
“But such thinking assumes there is a ‘top’—and that reaching that top (and staying there) is the only motive one has to create. Such thinking assumes that the mysteries of inspiration operate on the same scale that we do—on a limited human scale of success and failure, of winning and losing, of comparison and competition, of commerce and reputation, of units sold and influence wielded. Such thinking assumes that you must be constantly victorious—not only against your peers but also against an earlier version of your own poor self. Most dangerously of all, such thinking assumes that if you cannot win, then you must not continue to play.”
— Elizabeth Gilbert (Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear)
The point Gilbert is attempting to make is that true artists do not create for fame or fortune or even recognition. Someone who wishes to live a creative life, whether they are a writer or another kind of artist, does so because they cannot imagine their life without their art. The two are so deeply intertwined that there is not one without the other.
It is not about success or failure for the artist. Such concepts are arbitrary and manmade and they hold no real sway over a creator. As a self-proclaimed artist, I do not write because I want to be on the New York Times Best Sellers List (Although, if you’re listening universe, I would not say no if that were to happen). I write because I am not me without it.
You might be wondering what my reasoning is for sharing this story with you.
If you have stuck with me this far, I can only assume that you too dream of being a writer. You too feel the magic reverberating off a well-crafted sentence. You too recognize the power only the written word can hold.
If this is you, I want to stress to you this: Hold on to your passion. Hold on to your ambition. Hold on to your resolve.
Now, I am not telling you to quit your day job (and I cannot be held responsible for anyone who reads this and decides to). All I am saying is if you are passionate about creating art, find the time to do it.
Stay up a few extra hours and write a few pages. Try to read as many books as you can. Join creative writing organizations in your community.
You are never too young or too old to chase your dream.
I want you to announce to the world, unafraid, that you want to be a writer. And when you are met with criticism and cynicism and people try to crush you under the weight of their negativity, I want you to tell them that it is too bad that they are too afraid to follow their dreams; however, you are not going to let their words stop you from achieving yours.
–S. Padgett
