I haven't read the site in a while, but this was exactly the quote I needed to see when I finally got the courage to log on. I say "courage" because every time I read an entry I feel like I'm cheating on the life I have--you know, the one that I planned, courted, and bagged. So I stopped opening the site because the last few months haven't been particularly brave ones for me. I've always had a love and talent for writing, but I'd been raised to believe that such talents don't pay the bills; so I relegated it to hobby status because I like my bills paid. I chose my college, and then my lawschool, based on my fear of having to go without "______" (insert heat, electricity, food, car, whatever). Fear of poverty was a powerful motivator back then. My life-journey took a turn in third year of law school. I'm sitting in Tax class, second row, doodling in the margins of my notebook. I look down and see that I've written "I AM A WRITER." I feel dizzy, ill--not sure I want to cry or throw up--because I immediately know this doodled truth is not one I'm not ready to face. So I persist in this original plan because I'm already committed to a collection of student loans with more zeros than I've ever seen in my life and because my law firm internship the prior summer gave me terrible cravings for the bone-in filet at Mastro's Steakhouse. After graduation I start at a firm in LA and collect paychecks so big they would have kept my family and every other family on the block where I grew up from ever having to go without "_____," but the plan never tastes as good or sits as well with me as it did that summer before tax class. It doesn't help that in LA I keep crossing paths with writers who say things like "Have you ever thought about writing?" and invite me to workshops and classes. I pretend I have no idea what they're talking about and make I'm-too-busy-excuses to cover up that fact that I'm too afraid to let go of this life I've planned--it looks good at parties, it sells well to the folks back home, and it pays the bills for me and a few others. I fool around with some writing here and there, but I only admit I'm a writer to a select few (One of them being a law school intern who admits to me that she's secretly a writer who is on the fence about accepting an offer from my firm. I tell her unequivocally "DON'T TAKE THE MONEY!" and I've since been very happy to learn that Lisa Joy was a braver woman than I.) Fast forward a few years and I leave LA for the East Coast, letting the life I've planned distract me with new houses, new jobs, and a couple of kids, but that doodled truth still hangs around the margins. I go back and forth between trying to overlook it and trying to figure out how to incorporate it into the main text of my life's pages. Most recently our family had a chance to return to the West Coast for a six-week sabbatical from our daily routines and lifestyle. The most important thing we took away from the experience is that tomorrow doesn't have to be the same as yesterday. I'm at the part in my story where I'm trying to live that learning, but I keep feeling stuck and not knowing why. Seeing Campbell's quote I realized that, yes, I'm nervous about what my life will look tomorrow, but in a butterflies-in-the-stomach-good-nerves kind of way. Perhaps the bigger problem is that I'm just way too attached to who I was yesterday. So thanks for the all the effort you put in pulling together this little gem and all the others!

rrobinso, thanks for sharing this. Well-crafted, honest, personal. Takes courage to admit such things to ourselves, let alone go public with those thoughts and feelings. I have great empathy for folks such as yourself as I chose to turn my back on one career to dive into the void of my own creative ambitions. It's not an easy path for most of us for myriad reasons, but if it what we are doing is, as Campbell says, to "Follow your bliss," there really is no other choice. Whether we pursue it as an avocation or vocation, since we only have one life to live on this spec of dust floating through space, we are COMPELLED to do so. It is the ONLY WAY to pursue an authentic life. Campbell has that great line: How sad it is for someone to spend their life climbing the ladder to success, only to discover they were climbing the wrong wall. What I attempt to do here in my own meager way is provide inspiration and information to support my fellow pilgrims as we seek to follow our creative paths. Your comments put a spotlight on how challenging these type of choices are, especially when we have to confront the reality of earning money to pay for "____". I hear you. As Levon Helm of The Band famously said, "Music don't owe anybody a living." We can extend that to ANY form of creative endeavor including writing. rrobinso, I'm glad you wound your way back here. If it means anything, I affirm your courage in allowing yourself to hear your Inner Truth speak to you. "I AM A WRITER." That came from SOMEWHERE inside you. Even if what you do now is take baby steps in exploring what that can possibly mean, you are putting yourself on a path in alignment with something real inside your Self. My advice: Don't think big picture. Instead just explore the edges of what that may mean on a day to day basis. A pragmatic suggestion: If you don't do a daily journal, why not start there. Even if what you write is gibberish, it's still WRITING. Finally a question: Would you mind if I use your comment as the basis for a blog post? I know it would resonate with a LOT of people. We can keep it totally anonymous. If not, no worries. I understand. Again I commend your courage. And by the way, what you wrote? It tells a story. So congratulations on having WRITTEN that!

Wonderful advice as usual. Since it's a doodle that was my Call to Adventure, it only makes sense to start by exploring the edges. Looking back, the big-picture-thinking has definitely stopped me cold many times. Please feel free to use my comment. Writing it was unexpectedly liberating, and all the better if it resonates with even one other person. And thanks again for the encouragement.