I quit my job.

I didn’t know when I woke up last Friday that I was going to quit my job.

And then, just after noon, I did. I asked my boss to go for a walk. We sat on a sunny bench in the park near our studio, and I told her:

I don’t want to do this anymore.

I don’t want to spend 80% of my time doing things that I hate doing, that sap my energy, that I’m not particularly good at, and only 20% (if I’m lucky) doing the things I love and am good at.

I didn’t go tens of thousands of dollars into debt getting my master’s degree to be a sad cliché who is miserable at work, who spends Sundays plagued by The Dread.

Don’t get me wrong — there are elements of my job that I love. There are moments, days — weeks even — when I feel great about what I do. And those are the moments that I want to stretch out and build into a career.

I spent (Canadian) Thanksgiving weekend with a roomful of people who have done exactly that: built careers out of what they love doing. They were storytellers — not just people who have bought into the marketing buzz around storytelling, but people who have made a living telling stories. And I could — can — do that too.

So I quit my safe, secure, well-paying job. I’m giving up fortnightly pay cheques to venture into the terrifying, exciting unknown and make a go of it as a freelancer.

Wish me luck.

Stay tuned for more stories about this new adventure.

P.S. A couple of posts/articles that influenced my leap of faith: Here’s Why the Freelance Economy is on the Rise (Fast Company) | Your Lifestyle Has Already Been Designed (Raptitude) | The Mobile Workspace (Micro-Documentaries Blog)