Wise men say...

On the way to the restroom this morning, I picked up a book that my wife has had next to our bed for several weeks. I had recently finished a book that served as both bathroom reading and insight to my impending fatherhood, and was in need of something new to pass my time on the throne.

The book, a guide for freelance writers, has served as a beginner's manual for my wife as she attempts to start a career in freelance writing. During the months since Marie bought this guide, she has taken the time at random moments to share with me, whether welcome or not, the insights that she has gained into the field of freelance writing. Attempting to be a good husband, I’ve humored her and listened to these insights while not having any genuine interest in the subject; until this possibly fateful trip to the john.

You see, earlier this week I wrote in my personal journal for the first time in nearly three years. After writing an entry, I perused through a few past entries and came across two in which I wrote about a desire to write and create fiction during my college years. I also wrote about a memory from my childhood in which I began writing a fictional Batman tale; I never completed the story, but as a I recall, it was quite impressive for a ten-year-old.

Why do I mention these dreams of old? As of recent, I have been spent a great deal of time contemplating what I hope to do with my life and the profession that I wish to pursue. Among those that know me, it is well established that I wish to pursue a career in coaching hockey. With that being said, it is also well known how difficult such an occupation can be: absolutely no job security, constant travel, and the pay in most positions is not great. On top of all of this, there are only so many paying coaching positions and an infinite supply of individuals that hope to gain said positions.

For those very reasons, I have been contemplating what I need to do to ensure the security of my life, career, and family. Among the many other options I have considered, writing has seemed to stand in the forefront as a viable possibility. How so? Throughout my academic career, I have been complimented numerous times on my writing ability, even having been asked by a professor if I was an English major (and no, it was not an math professor that would take anything written on a piece of toilet paper to be a masterpiece). Also, I believe that writing is one of the very few professions I can think of pursuing in my life that, besides hockey, would give me a sense of satisfaction about my life and career.

So it looks as though today I am beginning a new adventure. I have much to learn about freelance writing, and luckily I intimately know someone that has already done much of the leg work that is necessary for finding out the information I am in need of. Leave it to me to have an epiphany while sitting on the toilet.