The Life Of A Writer: A dream realized [Part 1]

Moving to Georgia wasn’t as scary for me as I thought it would be.

Now don’t get me wrong, I was nervous. I wondered if I was making the right decision. I questioned why I was leaving everything I knew and loved and deciding to move 700 miles away. However, there were so many reasons this move was important for me. It wasn’t a decision that was made overnight. The idea of moving had been with me since I’d first visited Georgia over ten years ago. I had planned this for many years, although probably not as you would imagine. I envisioned it and included it on my vision board. I knew that everything would eventually happen, I just didn’t know how and when.

I planted numerous seeds and as I ran across things on the Internet that would be relevant to my move, I bookmarked them. I never obsessed over moving, I allowed it to organically happen. And that’s what made the transition easier.

My dad told me recently that moving was the best thing he could have done. He said things didn’t get moving in his life until he did. That was reassuring because I was beginning to feel like I needed to shake things up. Whether it was in Georgia or some place. I needed to move, that I knew for certain.

Since I was younger I’ve been associated with the arts in some way. Either thru writing, playing the piano, drawing, etc.

I am creative through my core. Being creative makes me happy. It makes me feel the most alive. And when I’m able to do that on my own accord, I feel free to soar.

Over the years Georgia has become an entertainment mecca. Both my son and I (who very much reminds me of myself at his age) are involved in the arts. He is a music producer with major credits from the Hip Hop world. He, like I can benefit by being in a place that’s creatively driven.

And Chicago has changed from what it once was. I grew up in Englewood and life wasn’t at all like it is for those growing up in Englewood today. Every weekend in Chicago, upwards of 15 people are being shot. Mostly teenage boys. African American. And sometimes innocent bystanders. Imagine how I felt when my son said he wanted to go to the mall, or a friend’s house, or to the studio. While we didn’t live in an area where people were being shot, our block was changing. It was becoming the hangout spot and I know what that leads to. I was tired of being stressed when my son left the house. I was tired of seeing people hanging out on the street in front of my house. I was tired of having to go way outside of city limits to feel safe and I was ready for a change.

I was ready to put into motion what I wanted for myself, a slowed down pace that would encourage creative and critical thinking, so that I as well as my business could flourish. I wanted to be able to reflect on my life in Chicago and grow as a writer.

And that’s how I knew it was time.

From the first time I came to Georgia, I always said when my son graduates high school; I’d be moving soon thereafter. And that’s exactly what happened. Albeit over ten years, it finally manifested. That’s why it’s important not to put a deadline on a dream, cause you never know when it will happen.

What’s the longest you’ve waited for a dream to come true? Please share in the comment section below.

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Stefanie Newell

Writer at Write One Publications, Inc.

Stefanie Newell is an Atlanta-based writer and author of The Buzz: When celebrity gossip goes wrong….You can check out her musings on all things entertainment at TheMusicHotSpot.com and her The Life Of A Writer series on YouTube. http://youtube.com/TheLifeOfAWriter

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