*-*-*-*-*I sit in a conference room observing the clash of egos and the glazed over expressions on people’s faces. We’re boring each other with the minutiae of our job responsibilities and the latest changes in process. It’s so old. I’ve heard these conversations all of my professional life. I imagine smashing my head against the conference table and splattering my blood and brains on the wall. This is not a good indicator of mental stability. Clearly, I’ve entered the danger zone.
I trudge back to my desk in a gray cubicle where I will be tethered to my computer the rest of the day. I am one of the fortunate few to have a window and as I look out on the clear blue sky and the palm trees, I say to myself: “They should have known better than to give me a window on the world. Let me out.” Something is really wrong.
The years I’ve worked as a technical writer flash before my eyes. Hardware. Software. Marketing and corporate communications. All along what I really wanted to do was write fiction. Between working full time and raising a family, I squeezed in writing classes and workshops. I practiced dialog in my head while I stirred a pot on the stove. I scribbled thoughts on pieces of paper, hoping someday to stitch them into something coherent. If only I could quit my job, but there were bills to pay and kids to send to college. My dreams were always on the back burner. I procrastinated. Yes. No. Yes. No.
Time is running out. I look out the window now and watch the cars streaming by. The colors are vivid and inviting. An artist would need a broad canvas and a full palette to capture it. I get up and walk down the hall to my boss’s office.
“I am tired of living in a gray cubicle with gray carpeting and gray walls.”
She looks stunned.
“There are things I want to do before they roll me into my grave so I’m giving my notice.”
“Are you sure?”
We both take a deep breath. “Alright then.”
I smile all the way back to my desk. It is a smile of nervousness and exhilaration. I pray for a broad canvas and words to fill a palette.
So there you have it--my semi-fictional account. I am about to embark on the most romantic adventure of my life time. I am leaving my job in two weeks and I am going to finish my novel Laughing Hawk. Whether I succeed or fail, it's the journey that counts. Wish me luck fellow romantic writers.