If You Couldn’t Write . . .
Why do you write?
Is it a desire, or a hobby, or a need?
How you answer that question would determine your answer to the question of “What sense would you rather lose – sight or hearing?” but that really isn’t the topic of this blog post. (I’d rather lose my hearing, btw. I’m an exclusively visual learner. I don’t know what I’d do if I went blind.)
The real topic of this post is:
If you couldn’t write – not one word, ever again . . .
No more stories. No more world building. No more new characters invading your mind.
What would you do?
What are your other passions? Could any of them take the place of writing?
I’ve spent enough time in my life pondering questions like these (I’m not the only writer with an overactive imagination, right?) that I have my answers.
If I couldn’t write, I’d be a zookeeper.
Yes, that’s right.
I have this insane love of animals. If I could handle the emotional turmoil of it, I would have been a veterinarian. My best friend is a veterinarian, though, and I know what she had to do in those classes . . . I would’ve been bawling my eyes out every day.
And if I couldn’t be a zookeeper?
I’d totally be a costume designer.
I’ve been sewing since I was . . . I don’t know, 1st or 2nd grade? I remember the first skirt I made. It was elastic waist with a ruffle at the bottom. It was a faux-denim cotton thing, and I wore it to death. Actually, more like until I couldn’t fit in it anymore.
That eventually turned into actually doing a commissioned replica of Arwen’s Blood Red Dress.
Pretty, isn’t it? It was so hard to send away . . .
Incidentally, that links to my Deviant Art account. I have some of my costume designs up there, but be warned I haven’t updated that thing in almost 5 years.
Yes, I draw the clothing my characters wear . . .