Growing up, I couldn’t decide what I wanted to do. Be a doctor? I thought, as I practised the cursive alphabet. Astronaut? I imagined, as I wrote stories. Artist? I suggested, as I read books on grammar. Concert pianist? I considered, as I spent all my time researching and writing essays instead of practising.

Maybe… a writer? No, I thought, that’s like saying I want to get paid to breathe.

That would be pretty great, though, wouldn’t it? Getting paid to write. Being able to spend all my time researching and writing about it? Now that would be the dream!

Then I thought… well, why not? Other people do, why not me?

So I studied this “writing business.” I got certified in technical writing (research and writing all in one neat package!), and then in professional editing because the only thing more fun than coming up with my own sentences is helping other people make the best versions of theirs.

So here I am, grown up and finally cottoned on to the fact that if you do something in the same way you breathe (that is, *all the time* and without thinking about it), that’s probably what you should be doing.