
I didn’t set out to be a writer. In fact, when I was in high school I wanted to be a psychologist. When it came time to choose the class ring, I picked the medical symbol to exemplify my career choice.
But as far back as I can remember, way back to my adolescent years, writing always came easy for me. Penmanship was a cinch. Punctuation was second nature. Putting together sentences rarely stumped me. I did well in spelling tests and in essay questions. I was an Honors English student. No sweat.
Yet I never thought twice about it. I wanted to be a psychologist! I wanted to counsel people, listen to their problems, and delve into their past to find the root of the emotional turmoil.
My college years encompassed community college and university. I entered community college as a psychology major and began taking my core courses. One of those core courses was a composition class. The professor had us write compositions and read them aloud. In that class was the new editor of the campus newspaper. One day as we piled out of class, she looked me straight in the eye and asked if I wanted to write for the newly revamped campus newspaper. I thought she was joking.
She was serious. As it turns out, so was I. In a matter of mere weeks I had changed my major from psychology to journalism. That was my first life-altering brush with the wonders of personal and professional reinvention. I stepped out of my comfort zone (psychology) and ventured into something (writing) that until then felt like a hobby.
I spent 25 years writing for major metropolitan newspapers – half-a-dozen as a staff writer for The Miami Herald and a whopping 19 years as a music critic for The Dallas Morning News.
When I left The Dallas Morning News in 2013, I was completely burned out from the world of critiquing late-night concerts, reporting music industry news and trends, and writing comprehensive, authoritative, career-spanning obituaries of influential musicians on a crunch deadline of 90 minutes. I couldn’t do it anymore.
It was time for another reinvention. I had my second career in public relations all mapped out. Well, at least in my head. Yet being away from the competitive, downright cutthroat arena of job hunting for two decades was an uphill climb.
As I searched, I freelanced. I wrote press releases for local theaters. I wrote website biographies for local and national musicians. I wrote blog reports for an accounting firm. That was an experience! I took two contract positions – first as the PR coordinator for a homegrown fiddle festival, and then as an apprentice publicist for a boutique agency that catered to the hospitality industry. I was so detoured from my comfort zone that I lost the map.
Yet my reinvention was far from complete. I spent a year and a half as the Public Relations and Marketing Manager for a Dallas-based education non-profit organization, learning not only the inside of the educational system but most importantly how crucial it is for children from low-income families and poverty-stricken neighborhoods to have access to nurturing, arts- and science-focused after-school programs. I told stories, documenting in blogs, newsletters and press releases the evolution of impressionable kids.
And now, 35 years after that fateful college composition class I’m part of the marketing team at a financial services company for the trucking industry. I work in Fort Worth and live in Hurst. My Dallas days are long gone.
Reinvention introduced me to another world that I only knew in passing. As a Bilingual Communications Specialist I write blog stories, press releases, brochures, newsletters, and email blasts. I translate website copy from English to Spanish, as well as daily mailers, flyers, and applications. I tell client success stories, narrate how-to videos, and arrange media interviews.
I love it. The only constant in life truly is change. Stepping out of our comfort zones is how we grow as human beings. The art of reinvention makes us strong, capable. How we acclimate to the newness, how we find our way in uncharted territory is exactly how we test our mettle. That’s the psychologist in me talking, and the writer in me communicating.