Thursday I received some family news that shook me hard. It’s the kind of news that makes you want to forget about living in exotic places and move home to be near the family.

For the first time since 2006, I was compelled to write… for myself, for my family, out of pure need to express myself.

I wrote a very short essay on Friday to read at a local prose reading on the first Friday of every month.

I literally heard a collective gasp when I finished reading. I looked up, and the audience members were leaning forward in their chairs, several with tears in their eyes. I was crying. By the time the applause died away, I was in the street, releasing the anger and the fear in a torrent of tears. My wonderful friend Erin held me as I shook.

One man was standing by the door, waiting for me as I came back. “Thank you for reading that. It was beautiful,” he said. Others approached me. “My family is going through the same thing.” “I live in fear that something like that will happen to someone close to me.” “That was brave.” “You really touched me.”

My family and I will approach last week’s news one day at a time. It’s something everyone will survive (I have to add an “I hope” here).

But that’s not the point of this post.

I love my job (here’s a small sample of the number of times I’ve said that). I write press releases and white papers and emails for sales people. I make my clients very happy, taking care of jobs they can’t manage, coming up with ideas they don’t have time to think about. It’s a kick, and it makes me very happy and pays the bills every month. I’m quite fortunate.

But no one gasps when they read an article I write for a newsletter. I don’t bring tears to anyone’s eyes or make them laugh aloud. It’s not my job to touch people. The things I write right now don’t bear my name. We give the byline to the VP of sales or the company president.

I want to make people gasp and laugh, cry and want to share my piece with others. I want to write a mystery series with smart women as lead characters, and nonfiction that speaks to the universality of the human experience. I want to touch people and allow them to use my essays as support when things go wrong.

But back to reality, right? Most people can’t make a living as an essayist or novelist. It’s best if I stick with what works.

But let’s examine that thinking for a moment. Before I started my own business as a copywriter, I was convinced that making a living on my own was REALLY HARD and something that only ENTREPRENEURS could do. Turns out it’s not that tough. At one time I thought that people who went to grad school were WAY SMARTER THAN I AM and that I’d never fit in. Turns out I did. And I thought Peace Corps volunteers had some mystical power of giving that I’d never possess. And running a bed and breakfast was something that only really lucky people were able to do. And taking six months to travel around the country was a luxury that I’d never be able to afford.

But it turns out that all these things are doable. Not only that, it turns out all these things are pretty easy once you get over the OH MY GOD CAN I REALLY DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT??!!

What would it take to make the switch? I don’t often plan — I frequently jump. I say to myself, “If you want to make it happen, the only way to make it happen is to make it happen. Today. Now. Before you get too caught up in the fact that it will never happen.”

But I’m not going to do that right now. I wouldn’t drop out to my clients out of the blue. I wouldn’t be able to pay my bills. And I’d like to have a book proposal written and accepted by an agent or publisher before I leap. But that doesn’t mean that I can’t or that I’m going to put it off until it becomes one of those dusty things in the closet. It means that I have to remember how those people gasped when I shared a piece of myself, and how I reached them, and how lovely and amazing and right that felt.

So, back to you. Many of you who read here think about your passions and your true calling and how you’d rather spend your days. What will it take to make those dreams come true? How can you convert what you want to do into what you are doing? And why are you waiting? What is your bright treasure?

Sorry for the very personal post. I’ll go back to Avenue Z-ing tomorrow.

PS — the piece on Friday was recorded on audio. I won’t post it, but write me if you want the link when it becomes available.