How I Fell in Love with My Passion

It All Started With a Book … and My Mother’s Eyebrow Raise

I was nine years old when I first read James Baldwin’s Go Tell It on the Mountain. Admittedly, most of it went over my head. (Nine-year-old me thought “rocky path” was just about tripping literally.) But one thing stuck: the way Baldwin used words to go deeper than conversation, deeper than emotion even, straight to the soul of human connection. My mother, always the curious observer, caught me pacing our Brooklyn apartment reciting passages under my breath like incantations. “You’re in your narrator era,” she teased, one perfectly arched eyebrow raised.

She wasn’t wrong. Living in Brooklyn Heights—surrounded by the smells of halal carts, the hum of subway trains, and neighbors from every corner of the globe—meant stories existed on every block. My friends’ families spoke Italian, Arabic, Mandarin, Haitian Creole. My dad could carry an entire conversation in Franglais (which usually comes in handy when trying to charm your way into a croissant deal). Add the bookshelves in our living room—stuffed by my literature-obsessed mom—and well, I didn’t stand a chance. Stories and connection? I was doomed from the start.

But falling truly, madly, deeply in love with my passion? That would take time—and a lot of trial and error.

The Wrong Paths Are Still Part of the Story

If pursuing a passion was like dating, my twenties were full of breakups with the wrong matches. Writing and literary storytelling had always been my not-so-secret love, but as graduation loomed over my Yale dorm room, I convinced myself that “dreams” were for people who had backup trust funds. (Spoiler: I didn’t.) Enter corporate marketing—a very sensible rebound. On paper, it was perfect: high pay, sleek PowerPoint decks, networking events with free Pinot Grigio. And listen, there was passion there … but only for the catered sushi rolls.

It’s funny how the universe pulls you back to where you belong. One day, while trying to craft taglines for a misguided cologne called “Dominant Energy” (yes, really), I realized I’d saved zero drafts of my marketing pitches but three fully fleshed-out essays about cultural identity—and one fictional breakup letter addressed to New York City. It hit me then: I was using my day job to fund my side “fling” with writing. And just like staying in a relationship out of sheer comfort, I knew I couldn’t keep pretending the cubicle life was the one.

A Love Like Travel: Discovering Layers of Passion

Fast forward to my literary consulting days. Moving between cities like Berlin and Hong Kong allowed me to see love—of cultures, people, and writing—from entirely new angles. When I wasn’t sipping espresso in Mitte or exploring Hong Kong’s bustling night markets, I was meeting writers who braided their cultural identities into their stories. This deeply influenced my own work.

It dawned on me that what resonated most, whether in relationships or narratives, was authenticity. Great storytelling (like great love) is layered—not just romance on the surface but humor, sadness, joy, and everything messy in-between. In cities where languages collided like jazz harmonies, I learned to embrace complexity rather than fear it.

Want to deepen your connection to anything, whether it’s a person, place, or passion? Try this:
- Get curious: Ask the vulnerable, big questions. Why does this matter to me? What am I afraid of?
- Cross your own horizons: Travel is a cheat code. Even if it’s just trying your local Ethiopian coffee spot, exposing yourself to differences broadens the way you connect … to everything.
- Sit in the discomfort: There’s no growth without a little tension, whether that’s love or creativity.

All that curiosity and discomfort? It rewired the way I thought—not just about love but also how to bring my most human self to the page.

Passions Are Like Relationships: Commitment is Key

Falling in love with your passion is easy. Staying in love with it? That’s where the real work begins. Writing, on its best days, feels intoxicating. I lose track of time. New ideas arrive uninvited but drop-dead gorgeous. Life feels cinematic, like it’s scored by Solange.

But on the worst days? It’s sitting in front of a blinking cursor for hours while the voice in my head mutters, “Why does this sound like mid-tier fan fiction?” Sometimes, you’ll want to quit. Sometimes, Netflix will look far more appealing than working on your metaphor game.

But here’s what I’ve learned: Consistency is where love deepens. Real intimacy—and real creativity—isn’t about grand declarations or endless inspiration. It’s about showing up every day, even when it’s hard, even when you doubt. And the beauty of committing to your passion? It commits right back to you.

Here’s where passion and dating overlap:
- Keep investing: Just like relationships don’t thrive on autopilot, neither do your passions. Get better at your craft. Learn more. Challenge yourself.
- Practice patience: Not every effort will pay off immediately. (Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither was Beyoncé’s entire discography.)
- Know your worth: It’s okay to pivot or step away if something no longer aligns with your values—be it a bad partner or a project.

Ultimately, staying in love with your passion is about building something real between you and the work. The joy is in the layers.

It Always Comes Back to Brooklyn

Today, I sit writing this from a window in Brooklyn Heights, coffee by my side. Somewhere in the distance, I can hear kids playing hopscotch, just blocks away from where I used to recite James Baldwin. “Your narrator era has really leveled up,” Mom tells me now.

Without a doubt, love—whether for your passion or someone who feels like home—demands exploration, failure, growth, and effort. But that moment when it all clicks? When your passion becomes the lens through which you see everything else? Honey, it’s worth every heartbreak.

So here’s my advice: Treat your passion like you would the love of your life. Show up for it, get curious about it, laugh with it, grieve with it when it doesn’t meet your expectations, and chase it with everything you’ve got. Who knows? It could lead you back to yourself—and maybe even to a story worth sharing.