Six Years Ago, I Made a Life-Altering Decision

Six years ago, I quit the last traditional job I would ever hold to become a full-time writer. I had no idea what that would mean, where it would lead, or how that decision would significantly change me.

I wish I could go back in time and offer that gal a reassuring pat on the back when she began to panic. She was too young to embrace retirement and too old to leap right back into the job market. What the hell had she set herself up for?

Oh, I could talk her ear off now.

She set herself up for boatloads of rejection, unrelenting feelings of self-doubt and inadequacy, many more bouts of existential panic. She developed a chip on her shoulder, too, resenting all the times she thought she needed to defend her decision.

She also set herself up for bouts of the deepest satisfaction and joy she’d ever known and a powerful sense that she was doing the work she was meant to do. She experienced joy and peace. And an ineffable connection with creative spirits.

Six years ago, I was lost in ways I could not define and searching for a more meaningful way to live. I knew I was missing something—or missing out—and I believed I could write my way into an answer.

I did that. I got there. If I had known how hard it would be—to write the books, handle all the rejection, and struggle to be discovered—would I have done it anyway?

I’d like to think I would. Indeed, I told myself, six years ago, that I didn’t have a choice. I was going to do this—to be a full-time creative writer—without any alternatives in sight. No Plan B was ever on the table.

And now, six years on, I’ve learned there is no end point; there is no “arriving.” You just have to keep making new work. You shouldn’t expect it to get easier. Shouldn’t expect loads of external validation, either, because the act of writing needs to be its own reward.

And there are other rewards, too, that I didn’t anticipate. I’m more resilient and persistent—mentally tougher—than ever. I have more compassion for my own doubts and fallow periods. I’m more patient, with myself and others, because being creative is often slow work.

And the thing I really didn’t see coming six years ago was that I’d begin to develop a body of work that can, theoretically, far outlast me. I love that: leaving books behind that can be read, discussed, and cause complete strangers to feel something.

Six years ago, I wanted desperately to invent a future for myself that I had trouble believing in fully. I reached for it, anyway. And whatever else I may regret in my life, I’ll never regret leaping before looking.

My new novel TENT CITY, is getting some amazing reviews!

“Amy L. Bernstein’s powerful novel reflects modern times with a twist, offering powerful insights into groups that used to work together and now find themselves seemingly at odds, but connected in unusual ways.

“The food for thought generated by this social and psychological examination will prove especially compelling for readers seeking literary reflections of present and future dilemmas surrounding haves and have-nots, simmering frustrations on all sides, and the raise of poverty that both births Tent City and portends its ultimate collapse, as well.”

--D. Donovan, Senior Reviewer, Midwest Book Review