How losing my job became the Best Thing to Happen to My Writing Career

In August, a day after my birthday, my position was officially terminated. 

Though I had been furloughed since May, when I got the call, my initial reaction was still one of despair, due to the uncertainty of what to expect in the coming months without gainful employment. For several stressful months, I had been pulled every which way, in a mad flurry of job obligations, expectations and demands. I had little time to breathe, and no time at all to even question whether my chosen career path was what I truly wanted out of life. So, as work continued to pile up at the beginning of the year, I prayed for a reprieve.

When COVID-19 pressed the pause button on the world’s activities, and the first lockdown occurred, I was physically distanced from my place of work—a remote employee still trying to fulfill her duties. However, as the days turned into weeks, and then to months, I felt a different kind of distancing occur; in my time away from the office, my spirit had reawakened. 

As I hung up the phone on that August morning, within a whirlwind of uncertainty and despair, I suddenly felt a huge sigh of relief. Inside the quiet that followed, a familiar voice whispered to me. It was a voice I had resisted throughout my life but was finally willing to embrace.

It was the voice of my inner writer. The one that appealed for me to go on a journey of self-actualization and explore what I believed to be my true passion.

I have been writing, in one way or another, since I was seven years old. My first written story was about a little witch and her talking cat. I vividly recall the joys of spending afternoons filling stacks of dot matrix paper with my handwriting, as my young imagination soared much like my broom-borne protagonist. By middle school, I was convinced that I would grow up to become an author. But as life would have it, this trajectory was quashed one fateful career day when I was in Grade 6. An author, who was visiting our class, had stated very matter-of-factly that we should not make a living off of our words.

This was a discouraging warning to hear at eleven years old, and I took it to heart. Though my love for writing was budding, I lacked the confidence or foresight to see the power in my own imagination or words.

Rather than abandon writing altogether, I instead discovered fanfiction. While it helped to feed my love of writing, I piggybacked off the creations of others to craft my stories. Despite my initial discouragement, in Grade 11, when my original short story won second place and a $50 prize, I got my first taste of professional accolades. 

Though this had reignited my confidence, I listened to the world around me when it said that it would be wiser to pursue a safe, well-paying career. I focused my energy on my university studies and relegated writing to just a hobby. I began working full-time, landed a corporate job with a steady paycheque, benefits, and was now, by all accounts, what you would consider “content”. But deep down, I craved fulfillment. Yes, I was a competent employee, but I never felt as though my job would allow or trust me to do more beyond my hired role.

Then, without warning, the pandemic hit, and the noise of the world was finally silenced long enough for me to be reunited with my inner voice. During my downtime, I reflected on my position, and realized that I was only there to help make the dreams of others come true. My aspirations never aligned with what my role had intended for me; I was merely a steward to their success, while suppressing my own growth. I felt as though my path was being rewritten without my consent.

In light of the pandemic, a Great Reset was forced upon me. It afforded me the opportunity to take back control of my own destiny, turning 2020 into a transformative period, in more ways than one.

I stepped away from fanfiction and began crafting more original fictional stories. I wanted to create my own worlds, and within them, inspire others through my own ideas. I discovered the importance of respecting my time and talent and avoided projects that undervalued my writing. I learned what burnout felt like, and how to avoid it by finding the confidence to communicate my worth to those around me.

I grew to appreciate the value of the hustle, which often involved spending early mornings scouring the internet for writing opportunities. I also practiced humility when pieces were sent back by editors and took heed when sweeping revisions and higher standards were expected of me. I never buckled under the pressure. Instead, I developed perseverance in the face of a new challenge, and I delivered. 

Today, and for the first time in my life, I am comfortable with calling myself a freelance writer. I feel a sense of calm now that my new outlook is more aligned with my passion. I am still on the job hunt, but now I seek out opportunities that make use of my talents instead of denying them. It took the disruption of the Great Reset to set me back on the right path, but I trust that I am where I was always meant to be.

I listened to my heart and my mind, which both shouted in unison, “Go forth, Dreamer.”

So, that is what I will continue to do.