It took me years to work out that one of my passions was writing.
I finished a English literature degree, you say?
I still didn’t ever consider or think of myself as a writer.
I published a book that sold thousands of copies you say?
I still struggle to say that I am an author.
I think finding a place where we are comfortable to really talk about our passions and dreams is a difficult one indeed.
This year is the first year of my life, despite the wrestle that I am able to edit my biography with confidence.
This year is the first year when someone asks me what I am passionate about? I can clearly answer communication, media, spirituality, culture and creativity.
It has taken conversation after conversation, coffee after coffee and deep breath after deep breath for me to be able to clearly say what I love.
Today I picked up my manuscript once again, I changed the title, I edited more and I emailed a letter to a publisher again.
Writing and publishing books seem so glamourous but it is confrontingly lonely, it is rejection after rejection. It is mistake found in said manuscript after another.
It is opinion after opinion, it is email after email yet twenty fifteen, I am facing you head on and living the life of my dreams.
I am going to knock on door after door, fix my writing, one editor at a time and keep moving forward towards my passions and purpose.
How about you?
What dream lays dormant?