When I was 24, I was tired of the career path I had fallen in to and secured an interview to start an apprenticeship in something new. I was turned down, mid-interview, once the interviewer did the maths and discovered I would be 25 before I would actually start the apprenticeship, the cut off being 25. Then, after 6 terrible months in a new job within my one and only career path, I was fired with the reason ‘you’re not a good fit’. Too old for an apprenticeship, and apparently incompatible with the only job I had experience in, I had officially hit rock bottom. Worse than that, I had hit an existential crisis. I had no idea who I was or I wanted to do. Well, except to be a writer, although it wasn’t realistic. Publishing gigs didn’t happen to people like me. I had no experience, no degree and knew no one in the industry. But with nothing better to do, I figured I would write, and actually finish something instead of writing half a novel and leaving it to fester in my hard-drive.
And here I am today, 27 years old, and able to tell you that before the year is out I will be a published author. I don’t know how it happened, but it did. It happened to the small town girl with no degree who wasn’t a ‘good fit’. Life is so strange.
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