I Have a Dream

You know the question, “What do you want to do with your life?” I hate that question. I don’t know the answer to that question. And although I like to think that I wish people would never ask it, secretly I do like it. Because it makes me think, and it challenges me to live above complacency in life. If there is one thing that I hate, it is complacency and incompetence. Ok, that was two things, I always have to slip in that I hate incompetence.

So truly, I do think about it all the time, because I don’t want to merely exist in this life, no one does. And I’ve said it before, a million times on this very blog, that I could certainly find contentment in raising a family, being a good wife, serving in my church, etc., but that’s not passionate living to me. My mother and I have had the conversation countless times about how no one really loves their job. The majority of people out there typically enjoy their jobs to the extent that it is bearable, it pays the bills, and it affords them nice weekends and holidays with the family. I count myself blessed- I have great co-workers, a wonderful boss, and a job that has given me more than my first-year-out-of-college self could have ever asked for. And I have no intentions of leaving whatsoever. Making t-shirts can be a very fun business, especially for campers.

But I have a dream. I do. Some of you out there that know me well are probably laughing because you’ve heard more than once my flighty attempts at embarking on a “dream” career path, a dream that seems to incessantly change. However, there is one that has stood out above the rest, one that has stood the test of time, and although it has changed in many ways as I’ve grown into myself, I can’t ignore it- I love to write. I genuinely love it. Sure I don’t blog all the time, but I write every day. Not always on paper, not always on a blog, but I write my story in my mind and in my imagination every day. You may think that sounds strange, but I know what I mean, that’s all that matters right now.

When I was an awkward pre-teen tomboy, my writing affections centered on the wide world of sports, and I swore up and down I would be the world’s most competent female sports writer (see, the theme of competency, it started at an early age). I read the sports page daily in the Dallas Morning News, and I could see myself on the sidelines, mic in hand, ready to interview men twice my size. (Imagine if I had followed my dream right out of college- I’d be courtside at the NBA Finals, chatting up Dirk after his remarkable Game 4 effort. Watch out, Rachel Nickols. Yeah, right.) In high school, I imagined myself in every outlet in which one can write- novelist, newspaper columnist, magazine editor, public relations specialist, etc.

In college, after one quick and failed attempt at a Journalism 101 class (I got a 100 average, my only in college, but the content and professor killed my dreams) I changed my direction to the world of wedding and event planning. In fact, I changed my whole “career path” to accommodate this new dream. Now, I’m not backing off of that plan entirely after just one year out, but my passion for it decreases with every thought of lost nights and weekends that I treasure so much. That, and bridezillas. Still, in the back of my mind, I never let writing go. I secretly enjoyed my literature classes with sheer joy, I still read for pleasure, I still journaled and wrote to keep my creative juices intact.

Now, in my year after college, I can’t get enough of other peoples’ writing. I am in a book club with a few other ladies (I put years on very quickly after I graduated- after book club tonight, I have Bingo as well, no lie) and I so enjoy the variety they bring in their interests and I love learning something new through the novels. I read articles daily from all different interests, viewpoints, and topics. Blogs are my newest obsession, specifically fashion and lifestyle blogs, and I can’t get over the wittiness and honesty so many of them bring to the table.

So, yes, my writing bug is once again revived, and with it also comes that constant nagging fear that I’ll never be good enough to be “professional.” I’m really ready to nip that in the bud, finally loosen Satan’s foothold on my confidence, and truly aspire to use the talents (?) and passions the Lord has so graciously given to me. He gave them to me for His glory, because in doing something that I love, I can choose to honor Him and point all of my joy to the Creator of it all. Here’s what I’m asking of you:

If you know of any writing jobs, and I mean paying or not, I want them. Here’s the deal- I’ve looked around at what is required of paid writers, and you have to have a resume. Well, somehow I don’t think a future employer would ever take The Beauty of Simplicity as real, quality experience, and I can’t blame them. I’m ready to build a resume, if for nothing else than i get to do something I love in my free time. Let me know- I don’t consider any gig beneath me. Now, you may be saying, “But Raegan, you hardly use proper grammar in your blog posts, how could I trust you with a published piece?” Ah, that is because I use blogspeak on here- yes, that is a real word- and not my MLA-crafted masterpieces. But just ask my high school English teachers, I’m an absolute pro at grammar. As former editor of the Faith Christian School yearbook staff, my former writers can attest to my malicious attacks on their submitted pieces and the power of my mighty red pen that I wielded so liberally in those days.

Sarcasm aside, I do treasure the art of the English language in a completely nerdy, unapologetic way. I will not let you down. Give me a shout if you have any leads whatsoever- and I mean any. I may get nothing out of this initially, but at least I’ve put it out there on the interwebs that I am at least open to the idea of thinking about writing professionally one day. J

Thanks and Gig ‘em!