The Best Thing I’ve Done for My Dream is to Never Give Up

I have been writing since I was a kid, but I didn’t know that I wanted to be a full-time writer until recently. Ok. That’s a lie. I knew I wanted to be a writer when I was 10, but I kept denying myself of the calling placed upon me.

What I didn’t realize is my soul wanted to write because it didn’t know what else to do. That’s when a dream becomes reality because the best thing I’ve done for my dream is to never give up. It becomes the very thing I must do to be myself. So, I’m a late bloomer. I share this so that anyone reading will learn from my mistakes, especially if you are in your 20s or 30s.

As a young adult, I knew I didn’t want to work in an office full time, but life presented a path that did not immediately lead me to a career in writing. My heart wanted to major in Journalism. My head said no. You must make money. So, I headed into Marketing. When I flunked out of university, I began to drop into writing classes at the local community college.

At night I would write short stories, dreaming up characters and plots, but it was always a side hustle. It always remained on the dream shelf — this idea that I would call myself a writer and write for a living. Pfft. That was for people who believed they could do this.

Then one day, I signed up for a Creative Nonfiction class through UCLA Extension. As I explored different genres of writing — memoir, travel, and essays, it felt good and right. The words were rolling out of me, and I couldn’t stop. One evening as I read my short piece out loud in class, my professor turned to me, “Are you trained?”

“You mean, do I have an MFA?”

“Yes.”

“No,” I said almost sheepishly.

“So, you are intuitive.”

I felt called out, wondering how the rest of the class would treat me going forward. Yes, that was my trauma response of having been raised by a narcissistic parent (but that’s for a later essay). As I processed her statement, I realized she was paying me the best compliment ever. I reflected on it for several weeks and months. Someone else saw me for who I am. My patience and perseverance have given me hope. It is not just a dream; it is my calling, and my calling kept showing up. It whispered into the tendrils of my soul, “Never give up.”

I believe that callings stir up within us, never leaving us, always nudging us to return. That is what writing has been for me.

Callings begin when we are children, guiding us as we walk through life. For me, writing became a friend. I journaled, and still do to this day. Then I joined the Quill and Scroll Society in High School. Then I was asked to be the President. That’s what happens. You keep showing up to places and things you’re interested in because you cannot live without them.

Yes, life kept getting in the way, but I kept returning to my writing, always dropping into a class to hone my craft and hang out with like-minded people.

I’m a lifelong learner, but I’m a pragmatic learner. I don’t think we should have to learn things that won’t build upon a foundation of our calling. In other words, why do I need to take Biology if I want to be a fiction writer? I think that some classes, such as Math, are helpful as I do use Math in my everyday life, but not Algebra.

When I got to university, I didn’t pursue Journalism. As a biracial Asian woman navigating life, there are some things that take precedence over calling, such as keeping the roof over your head and a nagging to be responsible.

This is not to say that following your calling is not being responsible. I was confused. I thought being responsible for my bills outweighed the responsibility to myself. There needs to be responsibility to self in order to thrive and become fully yourself.

By the time it came to choosing a major, I was so bewildered by all the general education classes I had to take, it soured me. I wanted to be a better writer.

I wanted to read stories from other writers, but instead, my days were filled with studying Chemistry and Finance. By the way, I flunked Chemistry. I had never gotten an F in a class, but Chemistry and I just didn’t jive. I’m good with it. It was a wake-up call to reach for the places that are meant to be mine and leave Chemistry to those who love it.

So, there I was staring at a piece of paper asking me to choose a major. My immediate thought: How am I going to pay back the student loan? Journalism was risky, less responsible, so I thought. I chose Marketing. I wrote that word on that paper, handed it in, stabbing myself in the heart and changing the trajectory of my future. That was a bad, bad mistake. I proceeded down a road that took me to a place of complete destruction, trying to become something I knew I wasn’t because I was afraid. Fear has a way of eating you up from the inside out.

And then the absolute worst thing happened. My GPA bombed and I was asked to leave the university via letter. No thank you for being a part of our community for five years. I didn't seem to matter to them.

It didn’t stop me from turning my life around. I have survivor DNA etched into my cells, brain, and heart. When I couldn’t afford writing classes, I would continue to journal. When I could, I would drop into a writing class to let the education and community be a refreshment to my soul.

A few years ago, I was searching online for a biracial Korean community and saw a submission request for mixed Korean stories. I submitted my story for the anthology, “Mixed Korean: Our Stories” and they accepted it!

I couldn’t believe it. The day my printed book arrived I held it in my hands, flipping to the pages that were set aside for my story. Something shifted within me. I began participating in the readings held in various cities around the United States.

We were scheduled to be in South Korea in October 2019, but COVID shut our plans down, but not my writing. This new community has been life-giving. I leaned in. I breathed the fresh air and allowed that to fuel my heart for writing.

I participated as a ghostwriter and editor for a later book, “Together at Last: Stories of Adoption and Reunion in the Age of DNA.” Something was happening. The dream I had as a young woman to work full-time from home was coming true.

If I were to do this all over again, I would have chosen the Journalism degree. When you can look back with the wisdom of life experience, you can see where your decisions affected your life path. It isn’t always about how life presents itself to you, but how you react to it.

Nonetheless, I am here now. Ask me what I do for a living? Go ahead. You will hear me say, “I am a writer and editor.” The dream to write is no longer a dream. It is reality. I have learned a lot and know I have more to learn. I am grateful to be here, sharing bits of myself, weaving words together in hopes that they bring inspiration, warmth, and education to others.

As a reader, thank you for participating with me. I am grateful for you, especially if you made it all the way here.