A job I once held disappeared suddenly, leaving in its wake a creative life. I wrote and wrote until my fingers hurt from typing, my hands ached from holding the pen and writing in my notebooks, my eyes needed sleep, and my back was stiff from sitting too long in my chair. But I was filled with a fervor I hadn’t experienced before. I worked 18-hour days, and nothing could tear me away from my desk. I followed my heart when it came to things I wanted to do. The shock of the job disappearing was soon replaced by the joy of doing what I loved.
