A couple of weeks ago, I came across some old editorials and articles I’d written during the first few years of my writing career. I knew, even before I started reading, that I would need to be gentle with myself. That I couldn’t expect that younger version of me to know what I do now. That this younger, more naïve, less cynical version of me had not yet had the life experiences that would form me and inform my writing. I wanted to read my old pieces like a friendly older sister and not the bitchy editor that I am.

But I was judgmental anyway. I screamed at the computer the way I do when a writer disappoints me. I yelled at my former self for writing such garbage. Was I really that incompetent? Seriously?

And of course, there’s always a bright side. The more I read, the more I saw my growth in those articles and editorials. The more I wanted to get to know this writer who was trying so hard, often succeeding, frequently falling flat on her face, but laughing as she got up each time it happened. She was all right.

It was interesting to go back and read the stuff I’d written so long ago and it wasn’t half as embarrassing as I’d imagined it would be. I wasn’t the greatest writer ever born, but I wasn’t too bad either. But there’s another thing I’ve noticed– the cynicism and the seriousness. My work back then was much more lively, more filled with humor and there was a carefree sort of tone of voice that I’ve lost along the way. I’m definitely more cynical and less trusting than I was back then– I won’t name publications I’m working with, I don’t talk by name about the editors that I adore, and I’m way too overprotective about story ideas. The sad thing is that I can pinpoint the exact moment in my life that I became this way, that I stopped believing in the inherent good of people and created an imaginary wall around me. That’s not to say this is necessarily a bad thing, but it’s a change– one that was screaming at me as I read my work from back then.

I don’t think I can go back to being that trusting again, nor do I really want to. But I liked that voice, the one that was breezy and cool and didn’t much care about the seriousness of life and the troubles that came along with it. That talked with such hope for the future and such fondness for the past. I liked that about my writing from back then. I didn’t realize that it had been missing. I think I’m going to bring back some part of that person I used to be.

I’ll leave you with this editorial I wrote at the very beginning of the year 2004. I’m so glad I shared this story and what I was feeling at the time. Six years later, I still remember how I felt when I realized that I could afford to quit my job. In the end, I never did get that assignment from Family Circle, but that e-mail on Christmas morning was just the sign I needed to tell me I’d be okay.

**
January 15, 2004

On Christmas Eve, I was broke. Utterly, completely broke. I had a total of Rs. 200 in the bank and Rs. 150 in my pocket. Generally, my rule of thumb has been to spend everything I earn through freelancing, and use income from my full-time job for paying the bills. But what had happened was that my paycheck for the month hadn’t come in, and freelancing had been a little slow. In frustration, I had fired off an angry e-mail to my boss, who’d promised to look into it, but there hadn’t been any word from him either. I was getting desperate.

And then, just like in the movies, something absolutely amazing happened. On Christmas morning, when I opened up my computer to check my mail (okay, bank balance), there it was. An e-mail from an editor at Family Circle who was interested in my query. Here I was, dead broke, wondering where the next paycheck would come from, and there I was, halfway to a $1 per word acceptance. It just didn’t get any better than this. I quickly fired off the outline she’d asked for.

When I went back to work on the 2nd of Jan, my paycheck was waiting for me. And when I got home, the editor of College Bound had sent payment for an article that had been published some time ago.

Anyway, learning from my experience, I decided it was time to get my accounts in order and try to save up too (yes, 10% will go in the bank from now on). But when I put my records in order, I discovered what every freelance writer dreams of discovering. I found that I’d been making more money part-time from my writing for the past few months than I was from my full-time job! I couldn’t believe I hadn’t realized this before, but I knew what I had to do next.

I have now officially quit my job, and am on the way to being a full-time writer. Bills are taken care of, loans paid off (well, most of them) and queries are flying all over the place. Life is good again.

Now I’m still waiting for word on my Family Circle query and it might turn out that the editor doesn’t want the idea after all. But that e-mail on the morning of Christmas is one gift I’ll never forget. It’s been the best one so far.