Sticking a Fork in Passion

When I was young, I wanted to be a doctor.

Unsurprisingly, my parents were in full support of this idea, buying me a kids' microscope set, lots of books on the human body and, of course, this fantastic CD-ROM set:

Body Works CD-ROM

I got into a bit of trouble in elementary school, actually, when I brought BodyWorks printouts of the entire human body (both male and female) to class so I could show off my newfound scientific knowledge to my friends. In my defense, it was visuals of the internals, but I guess that was close enough. Until I was sixteen, I really thought I'd wind up as a physician.

Then, at the beginning of my junior year of high school, I got a failing grade on a paper for my English class. Dr. Granger Babcock was having none of this five-paragraph-essay bullshit and, quite appropriately, let me know that my first essay wasn't going to pass. He explained in detail the power of the written word, of persuasion, of making a compelling argument. He compared writing across media - from books, to music, to film - and showed us how integral and important the written word is.

I was hooked.

My recollection is that I narrowly passed that class (and every other English class through the rest of high school), but I could not get enough. When it came time to apply to universities, I found myself investigating English and Creative Writing departments rather than Pre-Med programs. Although I was a more solid math and sciences student, I'd suddenly developed a passion for something that had only slightly interested me before, something I wasn't even that good at.

Luckily, my parents were pretty great about my shift to being an English major. I got into USC and spent four years studying literature and creative writing. I wrote nearly every single day. I got better and, as a result, even more passionate about the craft. Toward the end of my first four years, my only dream was to go to grad school and then finish off with a doctorate so I could teach. I got accepted at The New School in New York, but as fate would have it, I couldn't afford the tuition (I'd been on scholarship at USC) nor the room and board.

Then a couple of friends got their startup funded, needed someone who could design their website on the cheap, and, boom, I turned into a designer and am now, years later, managing teams of designers.

This past week, I visited Los Angeles for the first time in a few years. While I was there, I caught up with some old college friends and found out what they're up to these days. My friend Michael went from the Creative Writing program, to running marketing at a well-known location startup, and recently to quitting all of that and opening a cocktail bar with one of his friends. When we spoke he was already contemplating a second bar and was signed up for sommelier classes.

Another classmate, Clayton, spent the last eight years post-Creative Writing doing a little freelance writing work and tutoring high school kids to round out his income. Now, he runs his own tutoring business full-time, has four employees and can talk for hours (seriously, hours) about his passion for helping kids overcome their own perceptions of themselves.

And then there's my all-time favorite professor: Vicki. Vicki pushed me harder than anyone, introducing me to great authors and challenging me to write better than I ever thought I could. Vicki, who spent years getting her doctorate and teaching students like myself. She just recently finished becoming an RN and is now working at a hospital in L.A. She loves it.

A lot of people talk about following your passion. What I don't think we say enough is to remain open to your passion forking its direction or even changing completely. Even now, I'm not convinced I'll be a designer or a design manager forever. I remain incredibly passionate about my work and Etsy, as well as about reading and writing. But if I lock myself in to a single job, title or hobby, that drastically narrows my view and could prevent me from eventually finding new passions, new adventures, new challenges.

Follow your passion, but watch for forks in the road that might be worth exploring.