I have long had a dream to learn the art of writing both fiction and non-fiction, but the fact that I’ve managed to avoid true writing (since university essays don’t count) over the years is a tragic story of its own. English was my favourite subject throughout high school, as I loved reading and discussing works of literature such as Wuthering Heights, Macbeth, Lord of the Flies, as well as a diverse collection of short stories, including The Painted Door and countless others. During these years I chose to fulfill my co-op credit at the local newspaper office, thinking I might become a journalist one day. I even wrote numerous English assignments specifically about my future life as a writer.
My last year in high school included two English courses: One focused on mainstream work and another on enhancing creative writing skills. My teacher enjoyed the topic so much that he was willing to teach with only six students enrolled in the class. This naturally gave each of our sessions a close-knit feeling in which we were able to take our writing and discussions to deeper levels. I was in my element.
Then I met a man from church who, upon hearing my desire to write for a living, strongly discouraged me from taking this path because of the minimal salary it would provide. I took his caution seriously, especially as it was echoed by my Dad. I felt very dejected and suddenly aimless as well. This turningpoint was followed by a year of work, as I had just graduated from high school with no viable career goal.
The following year I decided to attend Bible college because after all, isn’t that where Christian young people go if they don’t know what to do with their lives? But a year at Bible college, as fun as it was, didn’t result in my finding a suitable career. However, my parents wanted me to get some kind of degree, so I headed for university in the only concentration that made sense to me at the time – Global Studies. It plugged me into literature and discussions of other cultures, history and global events, which was the beginning of my awakening to the TCK part of me that itched to study and imagine the countries and cultures of my childhood, and to discover the rest of the world. But when I considered potential careers related to my major, know what attracted me the most? Journalism, photojournalism, and novel-writing. Still, those words from long ago echoed in my mind: Writing doesn’t provide a decent living.
Thanks to my discovery of David Pollock and Ruth van Reken’s book about TCKs I was thrown into the challenging and exciting world of psychology. It was my personal response to the needs I was just realizing I’d had growing up, and I figured, why not study psychology and have a meaningful career in counselling TCKs and their families? Soon I realized that counselling also didn’t provide much of an income, at least not unless you complete years of schooling and finally join that elite group of clinical psychologists who charge ridiculous hourly rates for their services. But even so, I began to realize that counselling wasn’t my thing. Instead I discovered a passion for international and cross-cultural Community Psychology (CP) – a kind of combination between my interest in healthy, thriving communities (i.e. my TCK longing for the community-wide sense of ‘home’ I left behind in Europe as a child) and international/cross-cultural issues. I had found my niche–at least I thought I had until I realized during my last year at university that an undergraduate psychology degree usually doesn’t provide a decent living on its own, and that a Master’s degree in Community Psychology also doesn’t provide many opportunities for a secure income.
So that’s how I landed in a Social Work program which will, in approximately one year’s time, give me a degree that is sure to provide a secure job with an adequate or more-than-adequate income. So why is it this point in time, when everything seems to be moving in the right direction, that I’ve felt that strong tug towards writing again?
Just this morning I stepped into my car to run an errand and turned on CBC Radio 1 where I happened to hear an interview with a Canadian novelist, a woman who had also taken creative writing classes as a teenager, went on to earn a degree in psychology, taught herself to write, and is now a successful and celebrated author. She commented on the valuable insight into people and character development she had gained from psychology, a point with which I wholeheartedly agree. The knowledge and experiences I’ve acquired through all of my studies are priceless – a good thing considering the tuition I paid for them! They’ve equipped me with countless possible philosophies, social and scientific theories, historical events, and mysteries to explore, yet they haven’t actually led me to my ‘dream job’. I have to figure out for myself how writing will fit into my life, although I’m afraid, due to that old and ominous warning about making a decent living, that I’ll constantly battle to justify my desire to write.
I’m at the point in life, being thirty and all, where lifelong plans to fulfill my secondary goals someday have become plans to fulfill them today, or at least as soon as possible.
