I interviewed computer graphics artist Abby Goldsmith for an article I wrote in Spacesuits and Sixguns awhile back.  She mentioned that, as a student, she had a very narrow definition of success, which she later discovered was both impractical and limiting.

I used to have a similarly narrow definition of success: I would be a published novelist, or I would be a failure.

My plan was simple.  I’d serve four years in the Air Force, work my writing career in the off hours, publish my first novel by the time I hit the four-year mark, separate from the military, and begin working as a writer full-time.  Sounds great on paper, doesn’t it?  Oh, I had a timeline, and tools to help me track my progress.  And I did manage to land some short story sales in that four years.

What I didn’t have at the end of the four years was a publishable novel.  I didn’t have a plan B, either.  But I came up with one in a big hurry.  And then I kept writing.

Those of you who followed my various postings and articles at the original website (which will remain online until Christmas Eve) will already know that my four-year plan became a twenty-year career, which resulted in all sorts of eye-opening and very valuable experiences I had not anticipated.  More fuel for the muse, new stories, new songs, new novels.  Very worthwhile.

When I retired two years ago, I was excited about working freelance.  I would be my own boss, do things my way, with no one to answer to but myself. As it turned out, that also meant no one to talk to but myself.  That gets pretty old.  No one to edit my work, either, which makes creating professional work extremely challenging.  In case you didn’t know this already, here it is: Everybody needs an editor.  Period.

By the end of 2008, I realized that the freelance life was not for me.  I missed working for a team, and I was more than happy to leave the bookkeeping and accounting to somebody else.  So I left the freelance life for a contract job as a technical writer for a software company.

Yes.  That’s correct.  A (gasp) technical writer.

When I originally posted my intention to be largely absent from the writing website for the indefinite future, I received several emails about that.  “But, Dave, isn’t technical writing really boring?  I could never do that.  I’d fall asleep at work every day.  I need a job that allows me to be creative.”

For a long time, I also held that prejudice – until I started building a resume for technical writing jobs, and came to the realization that I’d already been working as a technical writer for over fourteen years.  It sort of snuck up on me, you see.  Although my Air Force career field was Security Forces, I did a lot of writing – everything from official correspondence and performance reports to base operations plans and classified security reports that made it all the way up to the Pentagon.  In the Air Force, if they know you’re good at something, they have no problem asking you to do it for them, even if it has nothing to do with your career field.

That contract job at the software company turned into a full-time position.  I get a big kick out of working there.  I write – and the assignments are varied in both style and execution – but I also design publications, work with really cool software, and share passion, editorial oversight and silly interoffice email humor with a team of six other smart, crazy people who love writing as much as I do.  That alone is worth the price of admission.

If I had defined success in my former limited terms, I never would have interviewed for this job.  Now, I have a steady paycheck doing something I enjoy, as much job security as any of us can expect in this economy, and time to pursue my other writing passions when the work day is over.  Life is good.

Keep your eyes open.  You might find success where you least expect it.