I did something very ordinary and unremarkable on Saturday, but I'm both terrified and thrilled about it.

As I've mentioned, back in November when my company had its first round of layoffs, I was quite sure there'd be a round two, and equally convinced that I'd lose my job when it came. So I started asking myself "if I didn't do what I do now, what on earth would I do?" 2008 was kind of a rough year for me professionally - see a) job connected to stock market and b) year long stock market turmoil, capped off with full-on implosion - but on the whole, I like what I do. I've spent much of the last year and a half focused on building online communities, planning and creating website content, optimizing for search, and engaging customers to drive traffic. I did plenty of other stuff too, but that was the part of my job I enjoyed the most, and I was good at it. Still, I wondered, did I want to do that somewhere else? I wasn't sure, and when I tentatively looked into it as a backup plan for when the layoff came, it seemed like most of the jobs in that sector are in Manhattan and Los Angeles, two places I have absolutely no desire to live. Ever. Unless they are paying me $20 million per year, and while I'm good, I'm not that good.

So I spent more time thinking about my life and what I enjoy about it that could possibly be a career for me if my current one fell through. After a lot of angsty goodness, I arrived at writing, specifically fiction writing, because why go for something easy. I mean, my immediate thought when I worried about getting laid off was that I could probably convince my company to allow me to keep writing for them on a freelance basis while I looked for work. Yes, I had a plan for if I got laid off in place. Ask about freelance work, get the severance money, take a month and drive out to see my brother in Portland and then start looking for a new job. Oh, and I was going to dye my hair blue temporarily because I've always wanted to, but couldn't due to the corporate nature of my employment.

It doesn't seem 100% crazy, the notion of me writing fiction. I wrote my first "book" in fourth grade. It was a Nancy Drew knockoff, I'm sure it was awful, but the fact is, I wrote it. Over the years I'd drift away from writing and then I'd drift back, and then I got busy doing other things. In college I had a double major and a lot of partying to do, which really got in the way of writing. After college I'd periodically make a fitful start here and there, but I never did all that much. I scribble down story ideas all the time, but I never sit down and think them all the way through or turn them into anything.

Now, obviously, round two of the layoffs has come and gone, and thankfully, I'm still employed. However, in the midst of all this soul searching I had an idea, no make that THE idea. It is the best story idea I've ever had, and I'm determined to tell it. I've been working on it on my own, but I've decided it couldn't hurt to get a little help, because it is not enough to tell the story - I have to tell it well. So on Saturday I signed up for a creative writing class. It starts in May. It's just a little workshop, but I'm petrified that it won't go well. And dreaming about how maybe it will.

Posted by Bad Penguin at April 22, 2009 6:50 AM