It was a small room: two windows, two desks and two desktops. There were three of us: the senior manager, the administrator and me. They were staring at me. I was staring at the ground. They were waiting for an answer I could not give, not at the time – not ever. He, the senior manager, had asked me a simple question that would have been easy to answer. However, the setting, the time, the situation – a small office, 11 in the morning, and a job interview – made it hard to think; I drew a blank.
“What’s your passion?” he asked.
My first thought was: anime – manga – fanfiction. Not exactly the most professional response in face of a prospect. But as soon as the thought came, it went. I knew, instinctively, that they are not my true passions. They do not move me deep enough. They do not pull me hard enough. They do not fan the fires of my heart and soul. They are not passions, but interests.
So I answered truthfully. “Um… I don’t know.”
Today, on the streetcar riding back home, it suddenly hit me: creative writing. Nothing moves me more than writing. Nothing pulls me as hard as writing. Nothing fans (and drains) the fires of my heart and soul quite like writing. When I’m inspired, I lose sleep, I forget to eat and I even stop in my work. Literally. When I’m at my job, in the middle of the day, I would just stop everything to write down a brilliant combination of prose and wit.
It defines me.
It comes and goes without warning, very sudden and sharp and absolute. It’s a feeling – right there – that pierces my heart and pushes me forward. It makes me lightheaded and invincible. It makes me more than I am. It leaves me breathless, shaking and hungry. When I’m in the middle of the street, take-out sushi in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, when I feel that urge to write, it literally propels to walk faster, my mind spinning with all the possibilities of all the worlds out there in my imagination.
It gives me purpose, and I lose myself in the words, thoughts and dreams as I’m writing.
There is no one else in the world.
Not even me.
There are only the ideas, characters and worlds being transcribed into words that are not enough to describe them.
That is my passion.
Writing is my passion.
If I could go back to that interview, I would hold my passion close. My passion is too private for them. Too personal. I will, however, tell them that I’m still trying to find it because, ultimately, my passion cannot be grasped. The inspiration behind writing ebbs and flows on its own – it is uncontrollable.
My passion is mine, and I love how powerful and happy it makes me feel.
So I ask you now, whoever you are out there: what is your passion?
Passion Flower | Passion