I'm still trying to figure out why I'm an artist. I'm the only artist in my family, and one of very few in my circle of friends. I've had 1,000 opportunities to do something else, and though I've tried to turn away, I couldn't help but answer the call to do this.
Why did I give up on the "sure thing?"
I had a decent salary, a respectable occupation for a private-sector company that I could name drop at dinner banquets and soirées I didn't care to attend. My title would elicit reactions like: "Oh, nice!" from strangers.
I had it all, one would suspect…
But I wasn't happy.
It's clear to me now that I could never have been happy with that life. It's not an "artist's life," or a particularly proud one, either. I wasn't building anything, and I had no real attachment to the work I was doing.
I get it, and I can relate to not feeling particularly creative. Some people crunch numbers or are personal trainers. Some people consider critical thinking as their artform or way to express themselves.
For some, going to Med School is the dream.
And that's cool for everyone else. But I write.
I am a writer.
That is the largest piece of who I am and it is the reason behind every decision I've made over the last 3 years.
I started this website in an effort to answer that call and, for once in my life, not give up on something.
So, don't give up, because while the pessimists, "realists" and haters one day will, the artist in you won't.