How did I become a writer and what a fresh fruit smoothie has to do with it?

I created a fantasy trilogy, "Destiny Will Forgive You Everything". Although hidden under the guise of a fantasy world, the message of my trilogy relates to the reality many young women find themselves in.

My writing delves into the complexities of transitioning into adulthood and navigating new environments. This theme was born from my personal experiences a few years back, when I was an adult student at a college. I had a front-row seat to the intermingling of the demands of adulthood with the fears about relationships, the pursuit of long-awaited independence, and the weight of decisions. 

I have been writing practically every day since 2016, not counting the breaks between books for research and important life situations. It took me four years to write my first book. Six months to write my second. Three months to write the third. All of that is thanks to the experience I gain every day I write. Thanks to the writing courses I participated in. And the changes I made in my life, so writing is on my priority list. Hopefully, my trilogy will be released in 2023. Will it happen? We'll see!

However, how did I become a writer? 

In 2016, I made a life-altering decision. I transitioned from a demanding managerial role, overseeing guest houses in one of England's renowned cities, to pursuing a career as a writer. The allure of a standard work schedule, a comfortable chair, and the freedom from work-related stress propelled me towards this change.

It was during a seemingly ordinary job interview that the course of my life took an unexpected turn. As I sat in the office, prepared and professional, I was asked a question that would redefine my future.

When leaving for work in the morning, the interviewer probably did not even realise that they would change someone's life by 180 degrees. 

She asked, "If you could have any job in the world, what would you choose?" I knew exactly what my answer should be. My dream job should be similar to the one I applied for. Words such as efficiency, good productivity, focus on results, the ability to demonstrate teamwork, etc., should be included in my answer.

I still don't know what made me say something completely different. I replied, "My dream job would look like this. I get up in the morning and open the shutters. In the distance, I can see the ocean. I open my laptop and drink a fresh fruit smoothie. I sit in front of the computer and write my next bestseller for a few hours, then walk on the beach". The interviewer smiled politely and thanked me for my answer. Not quite what they expected, I am sure. I didn't get a job. And I sighed in relief. 

I felt weird. Taller. Lighter. As if I was standing on the edge. It was as if I was about to take one step, and afterwards, my life would never be the same again. 

I reflected on the narrative I was giving to my dream and dream job. I have been saying that I would like to become a writer for a long time. But first, I should become independent. Then get a good job. Then, I finish my Uni. And then something else... I have been telling myself that there was no need to rush. It would be better to write my book once I have my own office instead of scribbling on the bills in the queues or on the margins of Uni essays. However, my job interview made me realise something.

I was stuck in my narrative, dreaming that something would change but doing nothing to make the change happen. Nothing to make my dream come true. 

My narrative was that it was better to be an unfulfilled writer than a lousy writer. My inner critic was trying to protect me from being disappointed in myself if I failed. And I was stuck in the same place, waiting for my dream to knock on my door, all beautiful and wrapped up. When the time is right, when there is money, and when the work gets better, when I feel healthier… I expected to suddenly find a time-turner, like Hermione, and change my reality backwards. Wake up with my freshly published book in my hand. 

Fortunately, I didn't need a time-turner at all. What I needed was an excuse to stop and think, to look closely at why I still haven't dared to take the first step towards my dream job. 

I needed to face the truth. I kept talking about becoming a writer, but I wasn't one. I needed to do things differently.

I turned my computer on and wrote one A4 page in a Word document about a girl who returns from work and wonders why the high priestess talks about some dark forces. Neither this girl, the priestess, nor the town had a name. I knew nothing about the story but wrote one page and closed the document. I did the same the following day - one page on how the girl got home and what she found there. And the next day, the same. I wanted to write about the nameless heroine who does not know where she is going but still takes the first step towards fulfilling her destiny.

I quickly realised that one page of text was not enough for me. I wanted to write more and more. I started to think about my heroine at work. Who is she? What is her name? What was her past like? I took notes on bills. I wrote down my ideas in the margins of my textbooks. On library receipts. On napkins. I started sticking notes on the wall. 

When I wrote the first ten chapters, I approached my high school friend, who liked to read similar books. She got hooked and became my beta reader. I started talking about my writing aloud, first to my partner, then to my family and other friends. It was weird. 

People said it was just a phase I was going through, a hobby, a flicker of enthusiasm.

Halfway through the book, I started treating writing as a job. I wrote at certain times, and I separated time for work, studying, and writing. I changed my job to a less demanding (and less paid one!). I set up a new savings account, in which I put a small amount monthly. I made my first writing investment in writing software.

Today, I have a few stories to my name, a few writing courses I attended, a few interviews, and creative writing classes that I conducted. I have my writing corner and a comfortable chair. I have time to create and time to sit idle. 

I also have a list of sacrifices I made over the years to be here.

And every time someone asks me about being a writer, I think back to that gloomy day and the interview. 

If not for the question about my dream job, where would I be today?