A WRITER’S PURPOSE IN LIFE

by

Barbie Perkins-Cooper


Two days ago, September 26, 2007 -- to be exact, I received the surprise of my life! After years of struggle as a writer, I have been selected to participate with the SC Arts Commission Arts in Education Roster of Approved Artists, in the Literary Arts field. I read the letter three times, just to make certain I was not dreaming! I confess, I have been praying to God to guide me and give me strength during the times of doubt, and to please give me a sign of what to do to define my true purpose in life.

August 22 was my birthday; a day most people believe is a day for joy, a time to celebrate and do whatever one feels inclined to do. For me, it is a day of self-examination, a day to rewrite my purpose in life. As a child, my grandmother said, “Your life has a purpose, Barbara Jean; you just need to find it.” Sitting at my desk, staring at the computer screen, her words whisper in my ears and I still have difficulty defining my purpose in life. I doubt my abilities as a writer and photojournalist. Bills are beginning to pile up and I am curious as to how I will meet financial obligations. Miraculously, money appears each month, much to the credit of my husband and pending assignments.

Writing is an isolated chore. There are times when the words flow, as if they magically dance on the keyboard before I can process them. Other times, like now, my fingers move slower as I struggle to process thoughts, research, notes, photographs and story ideas. A writer who is lost for words? Impossible, people say, but it is true. A writer writes, even when the fingers ache. Now I understand what my college professor expressed. Writers hate to write!

To be a writer, you must open a vein and let it bleed. An expression easily stated, but hard to comprehend, if you are a writer. I have debated returning to the corporate world; however, I made a promise to myself in June 2005 that I would seek my dreams as a writer. Every week I send queries to magazine publications. Like a slow time bomb ticking away, I wait in anticipation for assignments. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Slowly, I wait with the doubts swirling inside my head. Tick tock. Tick tock.

For fifteen years, I allowed my life to spin in an out of control direction manipulated by the corporate world. I followed the rules dictated by corporate life, never complained and was the first to volunteer. I conducted myself as a professional. Suggesting I needed a college degree, I enrolled as a full-time student still working full-time and managing a full-time household. When Corporate America reorganized my department, I moved to another department. Although my evaluations were outstanding, Corporate America found ways to manipulate promotions due to budget cuts, and excuses they controlled.

Tired of the elephant on my back, in June 2005, I chose to leave Corporate America and I never looked back. Choosing to establish a new purpose in my life, I stepped into the role of a travel writer. Accomplishing my first published travel article, I was euphoric! Two years later, I have several stories and photographs published, a book with my name as the author is coming out in the fall, and I send queries out on a weekly basis.

Although my goals are not out of reach, my plans are outlined, and I am moving into my true purpose in life. Today, I question my talents as a travel writer. I create a new plan, a new purpose while recognizing that maybe travel is only one avenue I should explore. Reviewing my resume, filled with five pages of publishing credentials, I remind myself to get back into the saddle and explore my true talents. Armed with the awards and certificates I achieved as a screenwriter, I must get myself back into the screenwriting mode, polish my screenplays, and begin a new marketing approach. Based on my abilities from working in the hospitality industry, there are markets I should approach including destination weddings, romance, food, and wine, health and photography markets. I must admit to myself, I have been neglectful. Waiting in anticipation of story acceptances, I found other things to do, instead of writing. Always fearful of rejection. The life of a writer is filled with what-ifs.

Procrastination, e-mail addiction, and a constant echo of self-doubt are enemies to me and I must acknowledge them and shrug them away. I must remind myself that other people saw in me what I failed to see at such a young age.

My high school English teacher encouraged me to write. I shrugged her words away.

My mother belittled me when I came home to boast about getting the highest grade in class on my projects. "You ain't no writer," she scolded. "You're just a stupid girl with big dreams. You are nothing and you ain't never gonna amount to nothing but a stupid hill of beans. Stupid girl. Stop dreaming those stupid dreams." The poisonous words of my mother still echo inside my brains sometimes.

My husband, threatened and fearful of my accomplishments, discouraged me, at first, telling me I was making a serious mistake. Recognizing his passion to control me, I inhaled, exhaled, deciding it was best to battle the situation with softness, kindness and a voice filled with my passion, not dominance or fear. After a lifetime together, I stood up to him telling him if I was making a mistake, it was my mistake and I was d--- determined to take this first step to seek my dreams as a writer. Now, he beams with pride when my name is in print. I imagine he might be a bit proud because his last name, the name I chose to take during marriage, is a reflection of who and what I am today. Perhaps he understands the miles of rejections, the years of fear, determination and the many road blocks I, as a writer, have endured. I honestly believe that only an 'artiste' understands how difficult it is to 'open a vein and bleed.'

Dressed in an invisible veil of armor, I must destroy the demons that keep me separated from my success and purpose in life. My plan of attack needs to be documented, read, and remembered, and I must repeat to myself the words of encouragement from my deceased father, “My daughter --- now she’s the writer!”

After my birthday, I have recognized it is a new year for me to seek my dreams. My purpose in life is to write, educate, and inform my readers. I must remember I can express what they hold back, because I am outspoken and I am a gifted observer of life. I have been described by others as 'having a mind of my own.' Yep, that is truly who I am! My neighbors describe me as an advocate, and I confess this is true. Whenever I see something that is wrong – an abused child or animal, a woman or man slapped or mistreated by someone who professes to love them, trash on the street, disturbances, alienation, homelessness, racial slurs, or inconsideration, I am the first to stand up and approach the situation. I react to things that other people choose to ignore. Perhaps this is my true purpose in life, to write, market and share my stories to make a better world.