Who are you, really?
Emily brushed the question aside. The bus jolted slightly as it pulled away from the curb with a slight smell of diesel, and she watched the city blur past through the smudged window. Across the aisle, a woman with a neatly tied scarf around her neck was flipping through a paperback novel, her lips moving silently as she read. A man in a suit a few seats down was dozing, his head bobbing with each bump in the road, while an elderly woman sat at the front, her hands gripping the handles of her shopping cart, eyes fixed on the horizon.
Each of them sat absorbed in their own world. Emily wondered (not for the first time) what their stories were. Did they feel as stuck as she did? Were they content with the rhythm of their lives?
When the bus reached her stop, Emily stepped off, the cold air hitting her face as she walked briskly towards the office. The glass doors slid open, and the familiar scent of coffee and printer ink greeted her. Rachel, the receptionist, looked up from her desk, her face brightening with a practiced smile.
“Morning, Emily! How was your weekend?”
“Morning, Rachel. It was fine, thanks. Yours?”
“Oh, you know, the usual. Tried a new recipe—totally burnt it. But hey, at least the smoke alarm works, right?”
Emily chuckled politely. “Better luck next time.”
Rachel grinned. “You bet. Have a good one!”
Emily nodded, a small smile playing on her lips as she walked towards her desk. The interaction was brief and superficial, but it was one of the most real things likely to happen in the office that day. The thought saddened her. She slid into her chair, the familiar creak of the leather under her signaling the start of another day.
An hour later, Emily stared at the subject line on her screen: Office Supply Inventory – Weekly Update. She sighed and began typing:
Hi Team,
Just a quick note to remind everyone that we’re low on printer paper and ink cartridges. I’ve placed an order for more, which should arrive by Wednesday. In the meantime, please use the supplies sparingly. Let me know if there’s anything else you need. Thanks!
Best, Emily
She hit send and leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples. The office hummed around her with the familiar sounds of ringing phones and clicking keyboards, but Emily felt disconnected from it all.
Her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen to see a photo of a sleek corner office from an associate. Below it, the caption:
Finally made VP! 🎉 Drinks on me tonight! 🍻”
Emily’s fingers hovered over the keys before she typed her response:
Congrats! 👏 You’ve earned it. I’ll try to swing by tonight if I can. 🍾😊
She added a smiley face emoji at the end, but the smile on her face was thin and strained, barely reaching her eyes.
That evening, Emily sat on her couch, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of the TV. On the screen, the characters moved through a world of excitement and drama, but Emily’s mind was elsewhere. She barely registered the plot, her thoughts wandering back to the text she had received earlier.
Her phone buzzed on the coffee table. Emily reached for it, her thumb swiping across the screen to reveal a new text. The sender’s name caught her attention—Lauren, a college friend she hadn’t spoken to in years.
Hey Em! 😊 It’s been ages! How are you? 🌟 I’m working as a certified positivity partner now, and it’s been such a rewarding experience. 🌱 Remember how we used to talk about making a difference in people’s lives? This might be something you’d really enjoy. 💖 Let’s catch up soon? ☕️
Lauren had always been the one with big dreams, the one who followed her heart without hesitation. Now, Lauren was doing something meaningful, something that made her feel alive.
Emily vaguely wished she could say the same.
Her bored eyes drifted back to the TV, where the characters moved through their scripted lives, their problems resolved neatly in a matter of minutes. She glanced back at her phone, the words from Lauren’s text lingering in her mind.
Who are you, really?
The question echoed louder than ever. Emily typed a quick response:
I’d love to catch up. 😊 How about this weekend? 🗓️
She set her phone down, the screen going dark, and returned her attention to the TV. But the show couldn’t hold her interest anymore.
The Challenge
The café door chimed softly as Emily stepped inside, the warmth of the room enveloping her. She spotted Lauren almost immediately, sitting at a corner table, waving energetically. As Emily made her way over, she caught snippets of conversations around her, the clatter of cups and saucers blending into a comforting background hum.
“Emily! It’s been way too long!” Lauren stood and pulled Emily into a tight hug, her perfume a blend of vanilla and citrus.
“It really has,” Emily replied, feeling a genuine smile tugging at her lips. They sat down, and before they could start chatting, a young server approached their table, a notepad in hand.
“Good afternoon! What can I get you both today?” he asked, his tone friendly but efficient.
“I’ll have a medium soy latte, please,” Lauren said, handing over the menu with a smile. She turned to Emily expectantly.
Emily glanced at the menu, though she already knew what she wanted. “Regular coffee, black.”
The server nodded, scribbling down their orders. “Would you like anything to eat with that? We have some fresh pastries that just came out of the oven.”
Lauren shook her head. “Just the drinks for now, thanks.”
“Got it. I’ll have those right out for you,” the server said, flashing a quick smile before heading back to the counter.
Lauren leaned in, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I can’t wait to hear what you’ve been up to, Em.”
They settled into their seats, the hum of the café providing a comforting backdrop. Lauren immediately began sharing her experiences as a certified positivity partner. Her hands moved animatedly as she described the joy she found in her work, her voice rising and falling with excitement.
Emily listened intently, sipping her coffee, the warmth of the cup grounding her. Lauren’s enthusiasm was infectious, and though Emily admired her friend’s passion, she felt a pang of uncertainty. Could she ever feel that way about her own life?
“And what about you?” Lauren asked, breaking into Emily’s thoughts. “What have you been up to? Are you happy with your job?”
Emily hesitated, her gaze drifting to the steam rising from her coffee. “I don’t know, Lauren. I’ve been at the same job for so long. It’s comfortable, but… I don’t feel like I’m really living, you know?”
Lauren nodded, her expression softening. “I get it. You’re stuck in a routine, but routines can be comforting. Still, there’s a difference between comfort and fulfillment.”
Emily looked up, meeting Lauren’s gaze with a curious look. “Yes, there is… isn’t there…”
“What’s your passion?”
“Huh? I don’t know… I used to write in college, but I haven’t done it in years.”
Lauren’s face lit up. “I didn’t know you were a writer! That’s amazing, Em. Why did you stop?”
“Well, not really…”
“You didn’t love it, then.”
“No, it’s not that. It’s just…”
“What?”
Emily hesitated and shrugged, the reasons feeling flimsy as she spoke them aloud. “Life happened, I guess. Work, bills, everything else just took over.”
“But you loved it, right?” Lauren pressed. “Why don’t you start again? Even if it’s just for you, just to see if that passion is still there.”
Emily considered this, her heart fluttering at the thought of putting fingers to keyboard once again. “I guess I could try. It might be nice to write something just for me.”
Lauren smiled warmly. “You should. And don’t worry about whether it’s good or not. Just enjoy the process. Who knows where it could lead?”
Their server chose that moment to set the cups down with practiced precision, the steam curling up in delicate spirals.
“Here you go—one soy latte and one black coffee. Anything else I can get for you?”
Emily and Lauren both shook their heads, and the server gave a polite nod before retreating to the next table.
Lauren wrapped her hands around her cup, her gaze never leaving Emily’s face. “Whatever you decide, I’m here for you. Whether it’s writing or something else, just know that you have the support of everyone who cares about you.”
Emily felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the coffee in her hands. “Thanks, Lauren. I’ll give it some thought.”
But as they sipped their drinks and chatted about old memories, Emily’s mind was already turning over the possibilities, the long-forgotten thrill of storytelling whispering at the edges of her consciousness.
Exploring
The glow from the laptop screen illuminated Emily’s face as she sat at her desk, fingers hovering above the keyboard. The blank document stared back at her, the cursor blinking in steady rhythm, a challenge she wasn’t sure she was ready to accept.
She hesitated, then typed the first sentence. It wasn’t perfect—it wasn’t even good—but it was a start. She deleted it, then typed again, the words coming slowly, awkwardly. But with each sentence, her confidence grew a little, tiny bit.
The story was simple—about a woman who leaves her small town to pursue her passion for gardening. Emily wrote about the woman’s fears, her doubts, her determination to follow her heart even when the path ahead was uncertain. As she typed, she felt a connection to the character, a reflection of her own struggles.
The hours slipped away as Emily lost herself in her story. The familiar sounds of the city outside her window—the distant hum of traffic, the occasional bark of a dog—faded into the background. The words flowed more easily now, the characters coming to life on the page.
When she finally looked up, the room was dark, the only light coming from the screen. She sat back, stretching her arms, a sense of accomplishment washing over her. The story wasn’t finished, and it wasn’t perfect, but it was hers. And that was enough for now.
Self-Doubts
The next evening, Emily sat at her desk, staring at the screen. The story she had started the night before felt distant, the excitement that had fueled her writing now replaced by a familiar sense of inadequacy. The words that had flowed so easily yesterday seemed clumsy and forced today.
She typed a few sentences, then deleted them. She tried again, but nothing seemed right. Frustration gnawed at her, the doubts creeping back in, whispering that she wasn’t good enough, that she was wasting her time.
Her phone buzzed on the desk. Emily glanced at the screen—another email from Lauren. She opened it, her heart heavy with the weight of her doubts.
Hey Em! 😊 Just checking in—how’s the writing going? ✍️ Can’t wait to hear all about it! 📚
Emily stared glumly at the mostly empty screen, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. She wanted to tell Lauren that everything was going great, that she was making progress, but she couldn’t bring herself to lie.
She finally tapped back.
Honestly? 😔 I’m struggling. The words aren’t coming, and I’m starting to wonder if I’m just not cut out for this. 😕
Lauren’s response was quick, her tone full of encouragement.
Don’t be so hard on yourself. 💛 Writing is tough, and it’s normal to have doubts. But you’re doing great—keep going! 💪 Even if it’s hard, even if it doesn’t feel perfect. ✨ Remember, it’s about the process, not just the end result. 🌱
Emily read the message twice, letting Lauren’s words sink in. The process. Okay. She took a deep breath, her fingers poised above the keyboard once more. Doubtfully, she began typing again, slowly at first with trepidation.
The words weren’t perfect. They needed a lot of improvement, but they were hers. That would have to do for now.
Evolution
Weeks passed, and Emily’s evenings became a ritual of writing. The stories came more easily now, each one a little better than the last. She filled her notebook with ideas, jotting down snippets of dialogue, bits of description, and flashes of inspiration that struck her throughout the day.
One evening, as she sat at her desk, the glow from the laptop casting a warm light on her face, she realized something. The stories she was writing weren’t just about characters—they were about her. Each story, each character’s journey, reflected her own quest for self-discovery, her own struggle to break free from the monotony of her life.
She wrote about a woman who quits her job to travel the world, another who starts a small bakery in her hometown, and yet another who finds love in the most unexpected place. The characters’ fears, hopes, and dreams mirrored her own, and through them, Emily began to explore the question that had haunted her for so long.
Who are you, really?
The answer clarified a little more with each story she wrote.
One evening, as she finished a story about a woman who rediscovers her passion for painting, Emily leaned back in her chair, a sense of satisfaction settling over her. The room was quiet, the only sound the soft hum of her laptop. She looked around at the cluttered desk, the stack of notebooks filled with her thoughts and ideas, and smiled.
The Email
It arrived on a rainy afternoon, the sky outside dark and brooding. Emily sat at her desk, sipping a cup of tea, when the notification popped up on her screen. She almost didn’t notice it, her mind focused on the story she was revising. But something about the sender’s name caught her eye.
Beachrow Magazine.
Her heart skipped a beat as she clicked on the email, her hands trembling slightly.
Dear Emily,
I just had the pleasure of reading your story, “Woman in Green,” and I was deeply moved by it. I would love to include it in our October edition. We can offer you $75 for the piece, and if you’re agreeable to these terms, please follow the link below to assign us the copyright for publication.
Looking forward to your reply,
Sincerely,
Andrea Steppens, Editor
Emily stared at the screen, her breath catching in her throat. The words seemed to blur together, and she had to read them again to make sure she hadn’t imagined it. Her story was going to be published. Not just published—recognized.
She felt a rush of emotions—excitement, disbelief, pride. Her hands shook as she picked up her phone, dialing Lauren’s number without thinking.
“Lauren,” she said breathlessly when her friend answered. “You won’t believe this—they’re going to publish my story!”
Lauren’s laughter was full of joy. “Em, that’s amazing! I’m so proud of you!”
“I really did it. I actually got published.”
“You did more than that. You found your passion!”
“My passion? No! Well … maybe …”
“Keep writing. That’s how you’ll know for sure.”
As she ended the call with her friend’s praise and encouragement in her ear, Emily sat back in her chair, a wide smile spreading across her face.
Realization
Weeks passed, and Emily’s apartment slowly transformed into a writer’s haven. Sticky notes with half-formed ideas littered her desk, and the glow of her laptop often illuminated her face well into the night.
One evening, Emily sat at her desk, her fingers dancing over the keys as she typed the final sentence of a new short story. The room was quiet, save for the hum of her laptop and the distant sound of rain tapping against the window. She leaned back in her chair, a satisfied sigh escaping her lips.
The story was about a young woman who left a stifling corporate job to start a small bakery in her hometown. The protagonist faced countless challenges—financial struggles, self-doubt, the disapproval of her family—but she persevered, driven by her love for baking and the desire to bring joy to her community.
As Emily read over the story, she felt a connection to the protagonist’s journey, recognizing the similarity to her own struggle to reclaim her love for writing.
She clicked “Save” and leaned back in her chair, letting the satisfaction of a completed story wash over her. The doubts that had once plagued her—whether she was good enough, whether writing was worth pursuing—were still there, but they were quieter now, overshadowed by the joy she found in the process.
Her phone buzzed on the desk, pulling her out of her thoughts. It was a message from Lauren:
How’s the writing going? ✍️ I’d love to read something if you’re up for sharing! 📖
Emily hesitated for a moment, then smiled. She pulled up the story she had just finished and attached it to her reply:
It’s going. 😌 Here’s something I just finished. 📝 I’d love to hear your thoughts. 🧐
She hit “Send” and felt a thrill of nervous anticipation. Sharing her work with someone else, even a trusted friend, was a big step. But it was a step she was ready to take.
The response came quickly:
Em, this is fantastic! 🌟 You have such a gift for storytelling. 📚 I’m so proud of you for getting back into writing. Keep going! 💖
Emily stared at the screen, her heart swelling with pride. It wasn’t just Lauren’s praise that meant so much—it was the validation of her decision to pursue something that made her feel alive.
That night, as she lay in bed, Emily thought about the protagonist of her story and the journey they had both taken. Her character found her passion in baking while she herself baked with words, stories, and the endless possibilities they held.
The Answer
One brisk autumn morning, the kind that made Emily feel alive with the possibilities of the day, she sat at her usual spot in the café, a steaming cup of coffee beside her laptop, where she was working on a new story. The leaves outside danced in the wind, their colors vibrant against the gray sky.
Emily finished typing a paragraph as her phone buzzed with a new email notification. Glancing at the screen, she saw it was from Beachrow Magazine. Her face flushed; she wasn’t expecting to hear from Andrea so soon after the last correspondence.
She opened the email, her eyes scanning the words carefully:
Dear Emily,
I hope this message finds you well. We’ve been receiving fantastic feedback on your story “Woman in Green,” and I wanted to reach out with an exciting opportunity.
We’re currently planning a special issue focused on emerging writers, and I think your voice would be a perfect fit. I’d like to commission you to write a feature-length piece for this issue—8,000 to 10,000 words, something with more depth and complexity, perhaps exploring the themes of personal transformation and resilience that you touched on so beautifully in your previous work.
The commission would be for $1,500, with the possibility of further collaboration depending on the reception of the piece. I believe this could be a significant step in your writing career, and I’m eager to hear your thoughts.
Looking forward to your reply,
Sincerely,
Andrea Steppens, Editor
Emily stared at the email, stunned. $1,500! It was a sum she hadn’t dared to dream of, with the chance to write something more substantial, more meaningful…
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she tried to collect her thoughts. She held her breath as she carefully typed her response, her excitement barely contained:
Dear Andrea,
Thank you so much for this incredible opportunity. I’m thrilled at the prospect of contributing to the special issue and would be honored to write a feature-length piece for Beachrow Magazine. I have several ideas that I think would fit well with the themes you’ve mentioned, and I’d love to discuss them further with you.
I’m eager to get started and am confident this will be a fulfilling project for both of us. Thank you again for believing in my work.
Best regards,
Emily
She hit “Send” and leaned back in her chair, a broad smile spreading across her face.
“Yes!”
The café’s patrons ceased their familiar hum to stare for a moment as she sat there, soaking it in. Then she quickly gathered her things and got up to go.
As she strode out of the café, the crisp air filling her lungs, Emily felt a profound sense of accomplishment. Her first thought was to share the news with Lauren. Pulling out her phone, she quickly typed a message:
Lauren, I have to tell you something incredible. 🎉 Beachrow just commissioned me to write a feature-length piece for their special issue. 📰 $1,500! 💰 I can’t believe this is happening! 😄
The response came almost immediately:
Em, that’s AMAZING! 🎉 I knew you had it in you! 🙌 This is just the beginning—I’m so proud of you! Let’s celebrate soon! 🥳
Emily’s heart swelled as she read Lauren’s words. Her friend had always believed in her, even when Emily doubted herself. Now, as Emily stood on the brink of something new and exciting, she knew that Lauren’s encouragement had been a vital part of her journey.
Later that evening, as the two friends clinked glasses in celebration, Emily felt a deep sense of gratitude. She had taken the leap, and it had led her to this moment. Surrounded by the warmth of friendship and the promise of new opportunities, Emily knew that she was exactly where she should be.
Who are you, really?
She knew the answer.
“I’m a writer!”
Need help changing your mindset? Take advantage of our Positivity Partner service! It’s a fun and easy way to build your new habit of positivity. Try a free session on our dime, with no obligation of any kind. Just use the coupon code “FREE”. Click here to learn more and book your free appointment: https://www.yourdailydoseofhappy.com/
Leave a Reply