Permission to dream
May 29, 2010
I wanted to be a writer for as long as I can remember. Before I could write a sentence, I was drawing pictures of stories and tying the pages together with yarn. But as I neared adulthood, I decided I needed to pursue a career that was more practical.
I majored in social work in college, knowing that I wouldn’t make much money, but I could always find work. I started a newsletter called “The Sara Beth Times” to keep in touch with family and friends, and to provide me an outlet for my writing.
As a young social worker, I kept the most detailed and effusive case notes ever written. I found the dramatic true stories of my clients to be better than any fiction I could dream up.
After working three years as a social worker, I decided to go back to school. I chose to pursue a masters in journalism, thinking this would afford me more career options after graduation.
During graduate school, I worked as an assistant editor for a scholarly research journal. I learned a lot about publishing, and I learned that every writer needs an editor.
After graduation, I decided it was time to stop talking about writing a book, and actually do it. But when the book was finished, and the customary rejection letters started pouring in, practical came knocking again. My novel remains unpublished, in serious need of a rewrite.
I began a job as a sales bid writer for a large insurance company. I made good money and some wonderful friends. I learned how to collect data, and to research and write intelligently about something I knew nothing about. In many ways, the job was very rewarding. But it still wasn’t the kind of writing I was meant to do.
I eventually found my way back to my hometown, with life forcing me once again to be practical. I write my newspaper column on the side, accustomed now to the necessity of a day job.
But that dream of a writing career is always there, beneath the pile of bills that an unpublished novel simply won’t pay.
I used to beat myself up for not having the courage to pursue my dream. But then, I reframed the picture. I’ve always been writing. I never stopped. And each new experience brings me that much closer to my dream.
One of my favorite authors, Elizabeth Gilbert, says on her website, “I never promised the universe that I would write brilliantly; I only promised the universe that I would write.” Ms. Gilbert gives dreamers permission to continue dreaming, at whatever level real life allows.
It’s easy to get discouraged when childhood dreams take a backseat to grown-up responsibilities. As another graduating class enters the world during dark economic times, many young people will feel the pressure to be practical, rather than launch headlong into their dreams.
And there’s nothing wrong with that. There’s also nothing wrong with dreaming.
I wanted to write. Life gave me the opportunity. I realize now that sometimes, just by moving forward every day, refusing to give up on the day-to-day grind of life, dreams are being pursued.
I recognize now that all things happen as they should, that lessons are learned and dreams are met in the midst of living life.
Young graduates, if you must be practical (and you must), don’t beat yourselves up about it. Take care of yourselves. Take care of your responsibilities.
Hold onto those dreams as tightly as you can. Take care of your life, and life will take care of you. And some day, when you least expect it, as long as you don’t give up, your dreams will come true.
This article first appeared in the Lewistown News-Argus and the Sidney (Mont.) Herald on May 29, 2010.