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.

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. 

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. 

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