On Passion

Now, don't look at the title and get all hot and bothered. It's 9AM, and -37 outside. We're not talking sex. Although... But I digress from my original plan. I want to write about fulfilling your passions. Serving your passions. Let's start at the beginning. Do you have a passion? Did you have one and somewhere between changing a dirty diaper, and  dropping kids off at the rink you misplaced it? It's not like you can look in the lost and found or put an announcement in the local newspaper. "Frazzled, somewhat disorganized mom of three, lost her passion last week on the corner of Sussex Drive and Rideau Street. If found please call number below, and remind her to keep a closer watch on this passion. She often let's it slip away." Might be construed the wrong way, don't you think?

My passion is writing. There. I put it out there. Made it real. Writing isn't how I make my living. I don't have the luxury of writing all day long. But writing feeds my soul. It makes me happy. I find joy in writing. And although served in a public forum my writing is very personal. It's like having an overflow valve I can release at will. I'm home all day surrounded by little people. Although I love them all, our conversations are somewhat one-sided. They demand. I supply. Sometimes I forget I went to university. Sometimes I forget the lofty conversations, debates, and discussions I used to have with big people while drinking over-priced pretentious coffee. My writing makes me smile to myself. Think about that. How long has it been since you felt joy? Smiled to yourself? Were pleased with yourself?

Think back to when you were a kid. What made for a perfect day? Swimming in a pond? Skating outside? Riding your bike with the wind in your hair? (Not something I can recommend unless you know someone willing to feed you strained peas for the rest of your life, after you particulate your skull on the pavement.) Or maybe, sitting at a tiny desk writing and writing and writing until your red duo-tang was so full you had to start filling a blue one, and that writer's bump on your middle finger started to look like a deformity, was a perfect day for you.

Don't let the critics stop you. I am dreading the comments I might get when my friend, who makes his living writing, sets eyes on this blog. He's an automatic editor. Editing is like breathing to him. When he reads these rants his head will explode. Grammar, syntax? And the style? Conversational? I certainly don't have a journalism degree, but I've got buckets of self-confidence. Don't let your own lack of self-confidence hold  you back. Take a minute. Look in the mirror and tell yourself you can do it. You can go back. Back to a simpler time when you'd try that back flip into the pool. And sometimes it's not about reigniting an old passion, rather it's about finding a new one. Trying something new. Just think what an inspiration you'll be for your kids.

Is a passion just a hobby? I don't think so. My hobbies are baking and cooking. Camping with my family. I love doing all those things but when I write I feel like I'm free. I'm the best at what I do because I'm the only person ever, in the history of peoplekind, who will every string these particular words together in this particular way. My writing makes me unique. So now I'm considering writing a couple of novels. One in November for sure, for National November Writing Month. The second starts today. I'm excited, I'm scared to death, and I'm dying to get started. After all, what else is there to do when it's -37 outside? Oh, here we go again. Focus people. Focus!