A Reflection On Dreams
This year was a challenging one for me, but from strife comes an opportunity to strive for something better.
By Sara Gill | 12/31/24
Cutting lines, changing phrasing, and scraping beloved ideas are all part of the writing process. Learning to kill your darlings is integral to all writers' practices. The same is true regarding our aspirations. Sometimes, we must let a dream die to make room for another.
As artists, our dreams are often lifelong companions. They inspire us in the day-to-day and comfort us in times of desperation. Occasionally, we get to choose our sacrificial lamb, but often, they are chosen for us. As someone whose career has survived many tragic endings, I have found that clenched fists and gritted teeth will not save you. Embrace surrender.
Unlike many artists I’ve interviewed, I’ve never had a singular dream. My throughline has been my insatiable need to be good, both morally and in mastery. I was a precocious child — passionate, creative, sensitive, dramatic, but also painfully earnest. I’ve often felt like a caricature — larger than life, with a booming laugh, bright red hair, and a lot to say.
As a child, I let curiosity lead me as far as my skill would let me. I drew pictures, made up stories, and sang often. My first inspirations were the women in my family, then female artists. I admired Beatrix Potter, Carole King, Ina Garten, and Madeline Khan. I dreamed of being clever, multi-talented, and beautiful. I wanted to be a dressmaker, a singer, a storybook author, an illustrator, and a cafe owner.
I fell into writing naturally. Like most lonely girls, I desperately wanted someone to listen to me. Writing was a way to express myself without the scrutiny of others. My school work, the sports I played, and the music I sang were all for others, but my notebooks were mine alone.
In undergrad, I studied Mass Communication with a minor in English Literature. This decision seemed more lucrative than studying English or Film. I did want to be a writer but felt too insecure to pursue it completely. I told myself maybe I’d like to be an English Professor one day if I couldn’t figure out another career path.
After graduating, I worked as a technical writer and executive assistant for a Tech Startup. I was completely miserable, but I was writing professionally. In my free time, I tried to help open a bakery. I did recipe testing, co-wrote the business plan, wrote all the website copy, and conducted market research. It wasn’t my idea, but I helped run with it. We did pop-ups and gained financial backing, but when it came time to move forward to a brick-and-mortar, our investor backed out. We let the bakery dream die. I was silently devastated but carried on.
Soon after, I tried to go to grad school part-time. I wanted to reclaim my awful experiences in undergrad. I also secretly hoped I’d become an adjunct professor with a freelance writing career and a tenured professor as a husband. I dropped out 5 weeks into the semester.
I worked as a nanny and decided to make a concerted effort as a writer. I failed miserably doing freelance and received only rejections from literary mags. I had a writing mentor who belittled and humiliated me to the point that I gave up on writing entirely for four years. I had lost any resemblance of confidence and my dream of being a writer was dead.
I tried teaching and then all manners of odd jobs until the fall of 2022 when I began working in the fragrance industry. I was an assistant to the creative director for a niche fragrance house. I soon had a newfound passion for fragrance. I found myself in a role where I could be creative again. I made custom playlists for each perfume in our line and began writing copy for our website and workshop curriculum. Slowly a clear career path to junior creative direction was opening to me. For the first time, I enjoyed a job with a boss who seemed invested in my growth. I was slowly regaining confidence in myself and my skill set.
In March of this year, I took a leap of faith beginning my journalism career as a guest writer for Art Grove. I felt slightly overwhelmed but wanted to push myself. I am still pretty green as a journalist, but I am thankful for the growth I’ve experienced since joining the team.
In May, I was laid off from my job in the fragrance industry. It was capsizing and I am still recovering from the shock. As I continue to navigate next steps and rejections, I am clinging to small victories. I have accomplished more as a writer in the last six months than I have in the last six years. I became a staff writer, was a MidMountain Fall fellow, spoke on a panel, led two workshops, created a zine, did two readings, and am launching a substack later this month.
This has been one of the most difficult years of my life. It is also one that I am most proud of. I am still sentimental, but I have learned how to let some of my cherished dreams go. We can grieve what once was and what could have been, but there is no need for despair. Dreams are a renewable resource.
To read more of my work you can subscribe to my substack. I can also be found on instagram.
PHOTO: Kyle Bowden @grainytexmex
About the Author:
Sarah J. Gill is a nonfiction writer and poet currently working in the fragrance industry. She is an avid baker and a proud member of a nonperforming choir. She is tall, beautiful, and easily overwhelmed. If you like her work, please kindly keep it to yourself as she can not bear the weight of perception. She lives in San Antonio, Texas with her cat, Guinevere.