My whole life I’ve wondered, “What do I want to be when I grow up?” I never would have guessed my answer would be “A Writer.” Nor would I have guessed that I’d be happy about that answer too. 

When I reflect back on my earlier life, my childhood and my years in school, it’s so obvious to me now that this whole time I have always been a writer. 

I just didn’t know it. 

I remember in the first early years of school my classmates and I were handed sheets of paper to fill out information about ourselves. We had to write down our names, if we have any pets, siblings, what our favourite colour is, and the one that I could never quite seem to answer as easily; “What do you want to be when you grow up?”
I thought, “Yikes. I don’t know? What are my friends putting down?” Ballerinas, Astronauts, Firefighters, Pilots, Doctors. 

Every occupation a grade three-er would know basically.
I’d settle on a ballerina, or a lawyer, or a teacher.

In highschool, around grade nine I believe, I had an English class one period where my teacher said our task was to write a fiction short story. 

“No more than three pages!”

 The class groaned whereas I was thrilled. I thought “This is going to be so easy!” and I got straight to it. From memory I believe I wrote about Kim Kardashian and her ex husband Kris Humphries at the time because I was utterly obsessed with the Kardashians. I remember needing more than three pages and my teacher was more critical of my lack of following the directions of ‘only three pages’ rather than the quality of the pretty good short story I had written. 

Towards the end of highschool, the pressure gets heavier on choosing a career path. Maybe it felt like a lot of pressure for me at least, I obviously can’t speak for my fellow classmates. But the subjects we were given to choose from seemed quite limited and focused a lot on how much money each industry can offer once you go to university, complete a degree, and hopefully land a job in that field. 

This was terrifying to me. How could I, a 16 year old, possibly know what I want to dedicate the next five to ten years of my life studying to become?

“I don't know!” I’d say to my teachers. 

Out of fear and ultimately what I felt like limited choice, I chose Midwifery and Nursing. All to fail anyway and disheartened, I decided to abandon my school work entirely. I felt like a bird in an invisible cage with an illusion of a shiny golden key to my future. 

How could I possibly know what I want to do when all of my life I’ve been in school and a child? 

I wondered. 

As I came into my early 20’s, the new wave of hustle culture had hit social media. Entrepreneur this, entrepreneur that. Business, business, business! I thought, “Maybe I should give that a go…” but I knew that it wasn’t my natural passion after trying it out for three years. 

When I stumbled across The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron, it was then I looked back with a clear view. 

What was I doing in my youth? 

I used to write in journals. 

Pages and pages and pages until my hands would ache. I’d write my daydreams, desires, thoughts and I would also write my friends long heartfelt letters. We’d even fold them in unique and tricky ways and give them to each other after school. I used to write letters to my Mum too. She still has a little collection of all the different kinds of notes and letters I wrote her throughout all of my younger years.

When I met my ex-husband, I used to leave him little secret love letters around our apartment when we first started dating. Even up until the end of our marriage I’d sneak in a lengthy love letter for him to open in his travels as a surprise. 

I have a box for my daughter to open on her 21st birthday that has letters from me in it too. I documented my entire pregnancy in great detail and the same in her baby book in hopes one day she will be interested to read the journey she is apart of. 

When I write in cards, I will use up the entire blank space with a message. It could be a card for a Birthday, Anniversary, Thank You card, or a Congratulatory card, whatever it is - I fill it. 

The only time that time flies for me, is when I’m zoned in; either pen in hand and hand on paper or typing away on my laptop. Before I know it, an hour has gone by and I have to force myself to stop so I can get a wriggle on with my other responsibilities. Otherwise I could write until the late hours of the night.

One day for fun, I randomly decided to write a fiction short story. My ex-husband asked me to read it to him and after I had finished he said to me, “You are a writer.” 

I’ve always been a writer. 

I just never knew it.

Writing comes naturally to me. I don’t know what it is, or where it comes from. It’s just a part of me. It’s my art. Not everything I write may always make sense or be grammatically correct, but one thing I do know is that I do not struggle to fill a blank page.

For some people, they may have always known. Maybe it’s painting for someone else, maybe it's maths for another, maybe it's photography. Everyone’s passion - their true passion is different. 

“Too many writers write for the wrong reasons. They want to get famous or they want to get rich or they want to get laid by the girls with the bluebells in their hair…

When everything works best, it’s not because you chose writing, but because writing chose you. It’s when you’re mad with it. When it’s stuffed in your ears, nostrils, under your fingernails. It’s when there’s no hope but that.” 

- Charles Bukoswki

He’s referring to aspiring writers in this quote, however, but he’s arguably referring to something bigger than just writing. It’s the notion of purpose, success, and creativity. 

It’s like when you’re asked, “What’s your favourite colour?”.

We pick a colour, so we think, but we can’t explain why certain colours make us feel one way versus how a different one does. We can talk about what we like about the colour, but not exactly why we do. 

Really, the colour chooses us. 

Finding your purpose and passion is nowhere as low risk and easy as picking your favourite colour, but the analogy is the same.
It chooses us. 

Bukowski also wrote: 

“We work too hard. We try too hard. Don’t try. Don’t work. It’s there. Looking right at us, aching to kick out of the closed womb.” 

He is alluding to the idea that if you have to try to care about something, to try to want something, to try to try, then perhaps you don’t really care about it and perhaps you don’t want it. Maybe it isn’t your favourite colour. 

All my love,
Chenise Sinclaire.