Hook:
Have you ever had a love story so intense, so all-consuming, that it became your North Star? For me, that love story wasn’t about a person—it was about storytelling itself. Dramatic, I know, but hear me out: I fell for my passion the way you fall for a good rom-com hero—slowly, then all at once. Today, writing is both my career and my compass, guiding me through everything from early mornings to late-night existential crises. And like any great love story, it’s complicated, messy, and oh-so-rewarding.
First Date: Discovering the Spark
I didn’t choose writing—writing chose me. Cue the cliché violin music, but truly, it began innocently enough in Little Havana, where every family gathering was a theatrical production waiting to be documented. My relatives were storytellers in the way only Cuban abuelas and tias can be. My grandmother, with a Cuban coffee pot in one hand and a rosary in the other, could turn a trip to the grocery store into a high-stakes telenovela.
At first, I was just the quiet kid sitting cross-legged on the terra cotta floors, wide-eyed and transfixed. But it wasn’t long before I felt that itchy, creative urge to not just listen but preserve those stories. My spiral notebooks became my journalistic debut—archiving everything from my uncle Raul’s fishing “adventures” (read: tall tales) to the “ghost” that haunted my aunt Cristina’s bedroom (Spoiler Alert: it was her creaky radiator).
What struck me even then was how stories connected us. They turned our immigrant struggles into triumphs, made even our messiest moments feel poetic. Like a first crush, I didn’t understand how transformative this passion would be—I just knew it made me feel alive.
The Honeymoon Phase: Falling Hard
Fast forward a few years (and a few knockoff Lisa Frank diaries later), and I realized that what you love has a funny way of showing up—even when you’re running from it. In high school, I dabbled in the arts: dance, theatre, painting (the tragic kind involving paint-splattered jeans and endless existential crises). But writing? Writing was the thing I returned to when I needed to make sense of the world, like comfort food but with fewer calories.
And when I say I fell for writing, I mean it hit me like a telenovela plot twist. During my junior year, my teacher assigned a personal essay, and while my classmates were groaning, I was downright giddy. I wrote about my family’s immigrating experience—about the slap-you-in-the-soul smell of my mom’s ropa vieja and the salsa music that blared from our stereo even when money was tight.
When my teacher handed back my essay, she said, “You have a way of making ordinary moments feel extraordinary.” That was it. The validation every writer secretly craves. Call it chemistry or destiny, but from that moment, I knew I couldn’t just flirt with writing—it was my person. Or, at the very least, my calling.
Long-Term Commitment: Turning Passion Into Purpose
Here’s the thing: Staying in love with your passion isn’t about riding the high from your Honeymoon Phase—it’s about working through the hard days when self-doubt creeps in like an uninvited houseguest. After high school, I pursued journalism at FIU and later added an MFA in creative writing to my résumé. That was where writing and I officially started “going steady,” but I’ll be honest—passion isn’t always glamorous.
In some ways, it’s like a relationship: Some days, you’re breezing through pages, feeling unstoppable. Other days, it’s like pulling teeth, and the blank page stares at you the way your ex used to when you asked what movie to watch. I learned that loving what you do means showing up even when it’s hard. Trying again when you mess up. Adapting when you grow into someone new.
My “breakthrough moment” didn’t involve book deals or Pulitzer prizes but smaller victories: a short story inspired by my grandmother’s folklore getting published. A freelance column connecting readers with the pulse of Miami’s vibrant cultural scene. Realizing that whether I was writing about my family or digging into someone else’s story, I was connecting dots between people, cultures, and experiences.
Lessons from Storytelling: What My Passion Taught Me
If my love affair with writing has taught me anything, it’s that passion is not just about creating—it’s about reclaiming. Reclaiming your story. Your voice. Your messy, beautiful, one-of-a-kind perspective. And the truth is, that’s something we all deserve.
Here’s what writing has taught me about love (with it and in general):
- The mundane is magical. Sometimes we overlook the most beautiful parts of life because we’re so focused on “big” moments. The smell of your childhood home on Sunday mornings. The way someone laughs until they cry. Writing has taught me to pay attention to the details because, ultimately, the little things are the big things.
- Vulnerability is strength. Putting words to a page (or feelings into the universe) is scary. But vulnerability is where connection happens. Whether you’re crafting the perfect love letter or sending your first “hey :)" text, being honest about who you are is the bravest thing you can do.
- Beginnings are messy, but that’s okay. The best love stories—romantic or creative—don’t always start smoothly. Growth happens in the uncomfortable chapters. Let yourself be bad at something before you get good.
The Happily-Ever-After (Kinda)
I’d love to end this by saying I’ve got it all figured out, but the truth is, I’m still learning. Writing and I? We’re still in couple’s counseling from time to time. Self-doubt still sneaks in when I least expect it. But here’s what I know for sure: passion, like love, is worth the hard work. The messy drafts. The failed attempts.
And if you’re sitting there wondering if you could pursue your passion—whether it’s painting, singing, running, or baking cakes shaped like Beyoncé—this is your sign. Fall for it. Hard. Let it teach you about yourself. You don’t have to be perfect; you just have to start. Because loving what you do? It’s the best love story there is.
Now go. Write, craft, create, live. Your passion is out there waiting for you—don’t make it swipe right first.
