The other day I met some new ladies at a dinner thing I went to with my friend.
It was the first time that it just rolled off my tounge.
After chit chat about what all these ladies did, the question I have dreaded and hated since I left Toronto:
"So A, what do you do?"
Since last year's epiphany, I have always hated to be defined by 'what I do'. It is, however, a common and honest question but one that still makes my skin crawl a bit and I have to stop my judgemental frustration from creeping up the back of my spine and out the top of my red-haired head.
"I'm a travel writer."
And just like that, I was born.
I haven't actually said it out loud. I've talked about "trying to" or "thinking of" but I haven't really actually yet defined myself as a freelance writer.
To the new people I met last year, I was always a former journalist turned communications turned taking-a-year-off-to-travel-Europe.
The the old people that know me, well, I guess I was the same thing.
But now, I'm no longer travelling Europe. I'm not even really getting that many temp gigs. And when I sit down to work, is it either writing, editing for Mosaic Minds, or looking for freelance opportunities.
I can't say that I'm getting rich out of being a "travel writer" yet but who says you have to be defined by your profession?
I am what I am - not what I do.
*mind wander singing Nina Simone* "I am, what I am and what I am needs no excuses..."
The ladies seemed quite intrigued, asking me all kinds of questions about publications and how it worked.
I had to admit that I am not yet being courted by the likes of Conde Nast or Lonely Planet but more that I am pitching stories to people in the hopes they will want to print them.
D laughed when I told him the story.
"Did you have to backpeddle when they started asking questions? Did you get nervous like you always do when you're flustered and talk too much?"
"No" I said, indignantly. "I just figured if I started to define myself that way, then it would come true."
Kinda like verbal osmosis.
It was the first time that it just rolled off my tounge.
After chit chat about what all these ladies did, the question I have dreaded and hated since I left Toronto:
"So A, what do you do?"
Since last year's epiphany, I have always hated to be defined by 'what I do'. It is, however, a common and honest question but one that still makes my skin crawl a bit and I have to stop my judgemental frustration from creeping up the back of my spine and out the top of my red-haired head.
"I'm a travel writer."
And just like that, I was born.
I haven't actually said it out loud. I've talked about "trying to" or "thinking of" but I haven't really actually yet defined myself as a freelance writer.
To the new people I met last year, I was always a former journalist turned communications turned taking-a-year-off-to-travel-Europe.
The the old people that know me, well, I guess I was the same thing.
But now, I'm no longer travelling Europe. I'm not even really getting that many temp gigs. And when I sit down to work, is it either writing, editing for Mosaic Minds, or looking for freelance opportunities.
I can't say that I'm getting rich out of being a "travel writer" yet but who says you have to be defined by your profession?
I am what I am - not what I do.
*mind wander singing Nina Simone* "I am, what I am and what I am needs no excuses..."
The ladies seemed quite intrigued, asking me all kinds of questions about publications and how it worked.
I had to admit that I am not yet being courted by the likes of Conde Nast or Lonely Planet but more that I am pitching stories to people in the hopes they will want to print them.
D laughed when I told him the story.
"Did you have to backpeddle when they started asking questions? Did you get nervous like you always do when you're flustered and talk too much?"
"No" I said, indignantly. "I just figured if I started to define myself that way, then it would come true."
Kinda like verbal osmosis.
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