Attention Must Be Paid

On June 4, 1979, I began my career as a writer. Wearing a dress, pantyhose and high heels, I entered a beige metal cubicle. I sat down before a manual typewriter, rolled in a piece of ruled pica paper, and pounded out copy about men's work pants and tube socks for The Sears Big Book. I will never forget the thrill, months later, of seeing someone lug The Big Book under his arm onto the train. People actually read what I wrote.

Today, 42 years later, I'm still at it. Only today I worked from home on a MacBook Air. I wrote a post for my client's blog and composed dynamic content for a trio of Gmail ads. I wore a t-shirt emblazoned with a recent vacation destination, but if I felt like working in my pjs, I could have just opted to not turn on my camera.

I've been supporting myself, without interruption, as a writer my entire adult life. I lost one job when the company I worked for bellied up, but I've never been laid off or fired. That is very rare in this industry. I'm more proud of that than I am of my Tempos, Echo and Clio. I've moved my clients' business along and maintained my integrity. I'm proud of that, too.

I've learned a lot from terrific mentors. I've had great coworkers who have become friends, closer than family. June 4, 1979 is the date I met John and Mindy and they are part of my life to this day.

 As I round third and head for home, I realize I am fortunate that I've made something of a success doing what I enjoy and what comes naturally to me.