So this has been a long time coming. Something that I have always wanted to do and now, just imagining the future makes me break into a senseless jig in my head. I’m going to write. Things. Stories. A book, maybe. But for now, I am going to write. And that alone brings me so much peace. Of course there are days when I break into a cold sweat at the thought of financial security (or the lack of it)! But it is okay. I would much rather do this, than anything else. It took me a mind numbing job and lots of pointless, soul sucking meetings to get here, but I am so thankful for it. I wouldn’t have done this otherwise. So yes, this is what my future is. Delicious ambiguity. And I’ve never been happier. And it all started with this blog. Thank you, you know who you are!
Edited to add: A conversation with a dear cousin inspired this post. The one who told me the average age of a published writer is 36, when I was lamenting about all the time I’ve lost and how my 33rd is a week away. Thank you Jujju!