_angel_ said:
Only ever wanted to be a writer.
i'm very similar. i've always known i WAS a writer. ever since i was very little i've had this knowledge that what i am, like being male and human, unchangeable and undeniable, is a writer.
sadly i've never really done anything to back that up. not that i don't write. i just don't write in the way someone who is a writer is supposed to.
other things laid over that over the years...
well, as a child i wanted to be a paleontologist, and it was always there until it turned out i was shit at science. apparantly not being any good at gcse science counts you right out fo the 'digging bones out the ground' gang.
at one stage i thought the coolest thing in the world would be to own a scrap yard so i could crush cars and whatnot all day. i kind of think that would be quite good.
once i hit my teens i didn't really want to do anything. all i wanted to do was drop out and live in a van or a yurt or something, perhaps make a living exchanging decorated twigs for soup and filthy sex with impressionable middle-class girls, i dunno.
at uni, with my ambitions slightly curtailed, i followed the path of least resisistance and did what i knew. having been turned down for a job by music and video exchange for not being geeky enough

i ended working in a bookshop for a major chain. which was the most depressing thing ever... the commodification of art

i was hired as the resident book expert, and generally my job was to spend four hours a day explainaing to people that we didn't have the book they wanted because it was too highbrow, one hour a day trying to catch shoplifters, one hour a day pretending to restock shelves, and the rest of teh time bickering with management. in the end i was stacked for stealing. which was a fair cop, cos i had been.
i decided at uni that being a music journalist would be the bomb, and promptly muscled my way into the student paper and took over all things musical. i loved being a student journalist and didn't let constant rejection (or complete apathy on the part of the various mags) put me off. After uni i carried on the dream, even getting a couple of interviews, and ended up in promotions. promotions was interesting, and gave me a chance to see how the industry really worked whilst supplying me with plenty of free stuff. However, as a romantic lover of music, as it were, seeing the sheer cynicalism of the machine at work and realising that I was becoming part of it as i rewrote record company bumpf to make it look like i genuinely believed Bubba Sparkx or Puddle of Mudd were fucking geniuses set to change the face of western culture... well, it gets a bit much. and still no-one wanted me as a staff writer or weren't willing to take me on without at least a few months unpaid work (not that it stopped a couple of nameless mags from using extremely similar feature ideas not long after my proposals were submitted) and gradually that dream died, drowned in cynicism and bitterness and class resentment.
never really have found what to do after all that. still kind of waiting for the next dream to come along. feelin acutely aware of my unemployability right now.