For the year and a half or so that it took me to resume fairly regular
work, I spent many days scouring job boards and rearranging my résumé on
a weekly (okay, daily) basis. And somehow, in the middle of all this, I began
attending a writers' group, convinced that my idea for a children's book
series would take off from sheer originality, belief, and hard work. It did not, but for that
period of time, I traveled each week to the writers' group and spent part
of each afternoon writing and rewriting, trying to redefine the me that
I could be. After all, wasn't that the time to try new things? Nothing
ventured, nothing gained, right?
As I have settled into (knock wood) more steady work over the past
couple of years, I have done a lot less venturing. While I keep my eyes
and ears open, and while I feel that I am constantly evaluating myself
and my situation, the going out on a limb in a writers' group sometimes
seems far away. The redefining myself sometimes seems placed on a shelf
for another day. The venturing tends to be much closer to home--literally and figuratively.
And yet, every so often, I have a day when the work is on "pause" for a
moment and the world is on "quiet" for a moment. There is the briefest
flash of what might be, and the time to explore it. These moments don't
last long. They are quickly filled with life work and work work, but if I
use them well, I can venture ever so slightly into that "might be." It
may not be grounded in anything. It may not hold any guarantee of work
or money or satisfaction. But it is a bit of venturing that might lead
somewhere, sometime when I least expect it. So I venture, because for a
moment, I can. And after all, nothing ventured....
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