There’s a cool new competition for writers out there from Positive Writers. It’s called How Writing Has Positively Influenced My Life.
I thought my running across this post quite serendipitous, because I was thinking about that very topic just last Wednesday. So now that the universe has whacked me in the heart about it, I have no choice but to enter gladly.
How Writing Has Positively Influenced My Life
For the first time in my life I walked into a travel agents last week and didn’t feel the need–the desire, the longing–to be at one of the destinations up on their boards and on their brochures.
For the first time in my life I’ve opened up travel brochures for places I’ve never been to but wished for, and felt no sharp intake of distress at never having visited them.
It’s a strange feeling for me, this contentment. I hope I get used to it.
My whole life, I’ve had the need to travel, the urge to explore, to experience different cities, places, histories, vistas…and to meet new people.
Ever since I was three, I had bounced between locations–my parents, my gran, holidays with family, holidays visiting family, and eventually (on a much lamented small scale) on my own. If I wasn’t in Some Other Place, I was dreaming of it. Some of those dreams have come true, but most haven’t. There’s so much to see and do in the world. Time’s not getting any easier to manage; neither is money. That’s never stopped me before.
But now…Now it’s all different. Maybe it’s because I’ve turned forty, or maybe it’s because I’m finally doing what has always been the bigger dream–writing.
For the first time in my life, I’m not dreaming about being elsewhere, doing something else, finding other opportunities. Instead I’m writing new stories in genres I’ve never explored, exploring worlds and universes one else has visited and meeting people who are both as like as me as they are different.
I feel a strange contentment; not yet lucrative, but that’s only a matter of time.
So the urge to be away to more exotic climes, the urge to be freezing in the Siberian wind instead of boiling in Durban, has dissipated. I can finally put all that mental energy squandered on planning holidays I hadn’t been able to afford (or thinking about life with a guy who would never ask me out), into work that is satisfying, fun, and (in some cases) likely to pay me until I reach one or two of those destinations.
For the first time in my life, I know that the time is not right for me to travel, or worry about finding Mr Right. It’s time for me to experience the contentment of being in the right job at the right time–the contentment of being a writer free to explore worlds, situations and possibilities to the infinite…
So although I’ve not seen as much of the world as I’d like to, I’ve seen some places in-depth. And in writing, I’m learning to live a life in-depth, true to myself, and for myself and my readers–not the travel agents or my boss.
Writing has brought me this contentment. I can’t wait to see what other fabulous gifts it brings me next!