What Pursues You?

by Jennifer Matthewson

She kept it in her heart, though she knew she probably shouldn't. The dream seemed too impossible, too far away. The dream of being a writer.

She had tried so many avenues over the years, so many other adventures. Singing in choirs and weddings, performing in countries around the world—these things had made her proud. But while the music was easy to sing from listening on the radio, reading the notes on paper was a different matter. The notes seemed to blend together and the long gaps between rehearsals left her mind without the tools to decipher the tempos and beats. The words of her high school music teacher rang in her head—"You'll never succeed at being a musician," he told her. And during those rehearsals where she struggled to read the notes, striving to match the women singing around her, she heard that voice, his comment, ringing in her ear, and it defeated her. Music, she guessed, was just not her thing.

She fell in love with graphic arts during her trip abroad, admiring the way the words melted with the colors on the paper. The images of advertisements—T.V., magazines, newspapers—bounced in her head, making her laugh and remember the strangest things. "Drink, Drive, Bloody Idiot," the sign at the football game had read. Yet the design, the letters, the bright colors and contrasting backdrop stuck in her mind. She admired the layout, the design of everything she saw and longed to design the same. She tried valiantly for years to acquire the knowledge, the talent, for she did have the love. But alas, she figured, the talent was not there.

There were other things she admired—chefs and the way they prepared foods, moving gracefully from pan to bowl to knife. The way the dancer moved seamlessly across the stage after years of rehearsal, looking as though the moves were engrained in her. The actor pacing from side to side, performing his work while waiting for the bus, unaware of the bystanders staring, lost in his own pursuit of happiness. But she had yet to find her way.

While visiting her lover’s family one day, she watched intently as his mother moved frantically back and forth, writing notes on pieces of paper scattered across the dining table. "What are you doing?" she asked

His mother answered, "Trying to finish this chapter on time. It must be to the publisher by 8 a.m. tomorrow morning."

"Publisher?" she replied.

"Yes," the mother answered, "I'm writing my first book."

Suddenly her mind began to flutter. A book? Someone I know is writing a book? Is it easy? Where do I sign up? Maybe writing would be her direction? After all, she had written in high school for the newspaper and yearbook. She even had numerous ramblings on her computer about her college days and boys who wouldn't return her calls. Maybe she could write! She scoured the library, looking for insights and information on becoming a writer.

Finding an online writing group, she inquired—"What do I need? Where do I start? How do I begin?" They answered in one word—clips. But her writing from high school surely wouldn't suffice, and her personal scribblings would never be appropriate. How would she pick up a pen and write, after all these years of word stagnancy? What if they laughed at her?

"Write for us," one woman wrote back. So she did. The words came effortlessly, surprising her. Her fingers moved quickly across the keys—a short article about her journal writing—something she was quite familiar with. Her editor was quick to mention how much she enjoyed the article, and after three edits to the final draft, she felt her first moment of pride.

The article was published to cheers from her fellow writers in the group. She mailed it to a writing magazine, on a whim, and received a call from the editor weeks later. "We love your article," he told her, "We'd like to buy the rights and publish right away."

"Should I pursue my writing?" she asked her boyfriend.

"You should, and I'll support you in any way I can," he said.

"Do you think writing is for me?" she asked his mother, who had continued with her own book.

"Absolutely!" she exclaimed.

"Did you like my article?" she asked her writing group.

"We did indeed!" they answered back.

Months later, when a local book publisher called to tell her that her first book contract was in the mail, she giggled to herself, thinking of how she wouldn’t have been able to write without those important people in her life, without the support around her. "Maybe I'll pursue my writing," she said to herself, "Or maybe it will pursue me."

Jennifer Matthewson is a freelance writer based in Portland, Oregon. Her writing has appeared in The Writer magazine and her first book, A Graduate’s Guide to the Real World will be published in 2004.