I was at home taking care of my five year old when I decided I needed to find my passion. I was searching for clues to find the one thing I would love to do on a daily basis , possibly make a living out of. The major condition it had to satisfy was, it should wake me up in the mornings. You can guess how difficult it is for me to wake up early in the mornings. This would be the perfect test. If the work excited me enough to make me want to wake up earlier on a consistent basis, I had a winner.
Books have always been the love of my life. I love to read. I love how a page feels between my fingers as I turn it. I love the smell of books, old and new. I love to see row after row of books on shelves in a library. It is not just the words. It is the entire experience of finding something good to read and then reading it.
But when I looked for some pointers for finding my passion, I never thought about books. Although I loved to read and even sometimes wrote to express myself, I didn’t think I would like to contribute in any way to the making of a book or even reading to review it. Putting my writing on display to impress and be judged seemed to take the joy away from it. Analysing a book by splitting hairs certainly did the same for reading.
So, I kept looking. Didn’t find anything worthwhile.
Finally I have decided to give words a try. Conceive, execute, polish and perfect a full length work of fiction. A novel. As I work on it I realize what I had feared. I was afraid that inspirations don’t last. I know now that they don’t. Brilliant writing is rarely pure inspiration. It is the work which goes into polishing the first draft that makes a written piece truly shine.
I ask myself not if I would love to write, but if I would love to revise.
And the answer is, Yes!