My life changed one day while I was sitting on the toilet.
A couple of years ago, a person very close to me found himself in a mid-life "career opportunity" situation. Ever helpful, I bought a pile of those books about finding the color of your parachute and being what you are. You know the ones.
My friend never read them. Not everyone (gasp!) seeks answers from self-help books. Eventually, they found their way into my ďreading room.Ē I started skimming through them in my, er, idle moments.
One day I found myself faced with one of those end-of-chapter summaries in the form of four questions. Here they are, more or less, along with my answers.
1. Do you like your job? Yes, very much.
2. Would you keep it if they didnít pay you?
3. What if money wasn't a consideration?
Iíd write fiction.
4. Is there any reason you canít start now?
Of course! I could start writing fiction any time. Just walk over to the computer. Or pick up a pen. Or a crayon.
Omigod. Iíd just decided on a new career. At forty-four. With my underpants around my ankles.
Was it really that simple? Sort of.
I mean, I'm a business analyst. So, of course, I wrote a project plan.
So far I'm right on schedule.†