A few years ago, I had a moment about two days into my new job. I had just started my third year of university, and had taken on a contract at the newspaper for a couple of months, working full time as a news journalist. I was writing a not particularly interesting story, when I stopped what I was doing and realised: I am playing with words and people are paying me.
I sent a text to my tutor and mentor: “I’ve just had a “moment” in the newsroom – I am putting words in order for a living”.
I was a writer.
I can’t say that I always wanted to “be a writer”. I just always knew it would feature in my life somehow. It’s like I can’t say “I always wanted to be a breather”. It just is. I just am.
I feel a bit the same way about blogging. I am away at the moment on our annual meetup with The Remarkables Group. Each year we gather all the bloggers from across the country that make up our ragtag team, and hang out. We learn from inspirational experts, we get a feel for where everybody’s at, and we possibly drink a little too much wine.
I was filling out a form for a spa treatment at the Sheraton in Noosa, after a magical breakfast on magical Noosa beach. It required us to state our occupation, and I wrote “blogger”. Because after all these years of writing, being on social media, learning, networking, making friends, making mistakes, and a hell of a lot of “well let’s just see where this goes, huh?”, I am a full-time blogger. It feels weird and crazy and fun but at the same time, totally normal.
I am truly grateful. I know plenty of people out there who aim for this. And there are plenty of you out there who have supported me in it. I feel as though I deserve it, but also that I’m exceedingly fortunate. I feel as though I want to buy you all a drink and get a bit emotional in the loos later.
Ugh I’m getting soft in my old age. Don’t tell anyone.