You Are (Actually) Meant to Do What You Love
Like many of you, the career I expected to have at the age of five is not the career I had at at the ripe old age of 27, nor is the career I had at 27 the career I have (or even want) now at 37. No, this wasn’t the original game plan. I didn’t want to be a lawyer or a writer or even a mother at the age of five. But I decided during my junior year of college that I was going to law school and that’s what I did. I loved writing, but I was good at arguing.
I did what I was good at. Not what I loved.
And let’s not be modest. I’m awesome at arguing. No, really. I can write sixty pages rehashing the same arguments in a brief and you won’t even realize I’ve begun repeating myself after page 20, because my arguments are that good. I’ve never met an authority figure I respected simply because they were in a position of authority. I’m a complete and total punk sometimes on social media simply because I’m good at arguing (and let’s be honest, it’s really easy to pick a fight on the internet right now).
Sometimes what you’re good at and what you love to do will overlap in unexpected ways. Most everyone hates law school, but not me. I loved law school. I loved the reading, I loved legal research and writing, and I even loved (and loved to hate on) the type-A competitive jerks in my class who had their hand raised at every possible instance. I loved the theory of contracts, and learning how our system worked. The pure hypothetical goodness of capitalism distilled into an agreement between parties. I loved the idea of law. I just don’t love practicing law. But I’m good at it. Brianna West says that should be enough, that we should all just do what we’re good at. Right?
Wrong.
I’m good at a lot of things. I’m a great mom, or at least my kids are still alive and they don’t seem too damaged yet. I write killer one-act plays and short fiction. And I’m pretty happy with where my longer project is going right now. I’m decent at gardening. I can keep the tomatoes alive long enough to bear fruit. I’m getting better at yoga. I can hold poses longer and I am more flexible than I was in my 20s when I sat at a desk for 16 hours a day. I’m out of practice on running, but I’m starting to increase my distance and really push forward again. I can paint a whole room in a few hours as long as I don’t have to do more than two layers of primer. I’m a great cook, and over the years I’ve made many new recipes simply by experimenting. (It’s just science with tasty ingredients, ya’ll.)
What do all these things have in common? Cooking. Yoga. Running. Writing. Drafting a brief. Reviewing a commercial lease contract. Gardening. Parenthood.
I’m good at these things because I practiced.
I wasn’t born with the innate skill or knowledge of how to be a lawyer or how to write a book or how to count out my dialogue pacing in a scene. I wasn’t born suddenly able to do a sun salutation or miraculously able to run five miles without stopping. I didn’t learn to cook until my mid-twenties.
I practiced yoga. I practiced law. I practiced running. I practiced cooking.
Why can’t we say that we practice writing? Why do we think that the story has to somehow spring forth like a full grown muse-like version of Athena or someone isn’t a real writer? Or that anyone who wants to write somehow may not be good enough to write if they’re not good at writing from day one? (Yes, I’m giving you the side eye, Brianna West.) You wouldn’t tell someone trying to lose weight to give up and go eat a taco, simply because they’re good at that, would you? Or how about a runner working to increase their distance… no one says to a runner that they’re only good at running three miles or less, so they shouldn’t bother increasing their milage or putting in the effort to run longer races. Skill is not a finite creation that resides in your DNA. Let me say that again.
Skill. Is. not. A. Finite. Creation.
You grow and change and become what you practice doing. Sure, maybe you’re not going to be the next Gordon Ramsey in the kitchen, but do you know who you will be? Yourself. Skill is the effort you put in to something, be it cooking or running or your career or, yes, even writing.
You’re meant to practice what you love. Everything good and worthwhile comes with practice. So you do you, writers and yogis and everyone else out there struggling with creating a little space for themselves in this world. You are actually meant to do what you love. Get to it.
