People want to know what my plans are.
“These are my plans,” I reply.
Because I am a writer and I plan to remain one.
“But what will you do for work?”
And then I realize that although this life I have carved out works now–now while I’m finishing school, now while Holden is only three, now in this season of life–maybe it won’t work forever.
I have a philosophy that things will all work out, that ends will be met. But I don’t think about how they will be met, I just trust they will be. Other people don’t think this way. They want me to be practical, to think about paychecks and health insurance and structure to my days.
So when I think about my future, practically, I know that I want to work somewhere that doesn’t suck all my time, energy, and creativity. I want to work somewhere that inspires me to write. Like yesterday, at the high school, these kids shared their words and I was so inspired, I wrote right there with them, these hard words I’ve been trying to get out for months.
Reading good writing, suggesting ways to make it better, is what I want to do. I want to encourage others to write their best work, I want their work to inspire my own. I want us to use words to tell stories, I want us to read stories to understand the world in new and exciting ways. I want the art we create to be a part of the world we live in.
So I guess that’s what I want to do for work. Those are my plans.