The Moment I Decided to Become a Freelance Writer

I was sitting on a bench in the public gardens in Halifax, Nova Scotia, lamenting the fact that I didn’t know how to break out of this barwork-travel-barwork-travel loop I seemed to have gotten stuck in. I scrawled in my journal that what I really wanted was to be a freelance writer. To do all my work from a laptop and to make my living no matter where I was in the world.

I just wasn’t down with the concept that my life be dictated by outside constraints. God, why did I need money? I didn’t want to be tied down to a job. The whole reason I’d hopped from meaningless bar job to meaningless bar job ever since I graduated was because I was terrified of getting tied down to a career.

This is my life, and I want to be in control of what happens in it. If I ‘started my career’ I’d lose that control, or I’d have to start all over again every time I decided I wanted to fuck off to another country for a while. Why the hell should somebody else have the last say in whether I can take a couple of weeks off work? Why do I have to start work at a certain time? Do you really need to breathe down my neck to make sure I’m doing everything properly? Fuck. That.

I didn’t know how I would accomplish it when I first set down in words the fact that I wanted to be a writer. All I knew was it was the answer I had been looking for.

I danced around the idea and dealt with my fair share of shit in the two years between conception and execution of the idea. But eventually, I did it. I figured out a way and I acted on it. And here I am.

Check out my freelance copywriting course if you’re interested in giving it a shot yourself.