I’ll admit it: I fell in love the old-fashioned way—awkwardly, unexpectedly, and with a fair share of missteps along the way. But this wasn’t a love story starring another person. No, falling in love with my passion—writing—was like one of those rom-com plotlines where the protagonist doesn’t realize what they’ve been looking for has been right in front of them the whole time. Cue the swelling music and slightly embarrassing montage of self-discovery.

Like every great love story, my journey to discovering my passion started humbly. Picture this: a dusty ranch just outside of Jackson, Wyoming, where mornings began with chores and ended with the sunset painting the Tetons in hues so brilliant you’d swear nature had its own exclusive Instagram filter. Somewhere between filling horse troughs and dodging ill-tempered roosters, storytelling started to take root. Back then, I thought of writing less as an art form and more as a way to survive Wyoming winters, when the snow outside could trap you for days. Cabin fever is real, folks, and writing became my escape hatch.

Sparks Fly: Finding Joy in the Unexpected

The first time I realized writing might be more than just a hobby was during a wildlife biology class in college. I loved the outdoors, sure, but there was something magical about turning my notes into vivid stories—stories full of the life and movement I saw in the wild. Who knew bison and beavers could become the unwitting stars of my creative world? But that’s how passion works, doesn’t it? It sneaks up on you like the plot twist in a Shyamalan movie—startling, delightful, and kind of weird if you think too much about it.

One day, back in college, a professor read my fieldwork journal out loud to the entire class. Mortified doesn’t even begin to cover it—my quick scrawls about elk behavior weren’t exactly written for an audience. But to my surprise, it landed well. People laughed in the right places (thank you, allegory about stubborn elk and unyielding roommates) and asked follow-up questions afterward. Hearing others connect to what I’d written showed me what storytelling could do—it bridged experiences, made the dry facts come alive, and yes, occasionally amused those who were bored of PowerPoints.

Falling Hard: When Passion Becomes Purpose

After graduation, I scored what felt like the dream of every rural romantic—a job as a park ranger. It was the perfect blend of being useful and being outdoors—until I realized just how often people interrupted the serenity of Grand Teton National Park to ask me where to find bathrooms. (Pro tip: They’re not hiding behind the moose.) While I loved helping tourists discover the wonder of the landscape, there was a hunger to share something deeper than directions.

I started writing short essays in my downtime, capturing not just the scenery but also the human stories I witnessed out on the trails—some sweet, some hilarious, and some, frankly, odd enough to warrant a sitcom spin-off. A teenager once asked me if "buffalo rodeos" were a thing, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t dedicate an entire page to unpacking the absurdity of that moment. (For context: they are not a thing. Please do not attempt.)

Those essays grew into magazine pieces, and with each one, I noticed something surprising: the act of writing about the world made me see it more clearly. Passion does that—it flips the lens, sharpens the focus, and reminds you why you were drawn to something in the first place. Writing wasn’t just about sharing; it was also about slowing down to appreciate the details I might otherwise miss.

The Dating Phase: Obstacles and “Are We Really Doing This?”

Here’s the thing about passion: it’s rarely smooth sailing. Falling in love with it is one thing. Sustaining that love? That’s where you find out what you’re made of. My journey with writing has been a lot like dating—complete with self-doubt, awkward lulls, and the occasional argument (usually when my laptop unexpectedly crashes). At first, I wanted our relationship to stay easy. I’d flirt with short-form pieces or jotted notes, but fully committing? That was intimidating—kind of like asking for a second date when the first one felt shaky.

When I started working on my first novel, I realized how deeply invested I was in this passion. Writing a book was a full-on relationship: exciting, exhausting, frustrating, but always rewarding. I learned to get through the “hard conversations,” a.k.a. staring at an empty Word document until inspiration finally struck. Pro tip for both writing and relationships: sometimes you have to push through the awkward silences.

It wasn’t always pretty. I’ve written in strange places—at horse stables, on picnic tables, even leaning against a bear-proof garbage can on a hike, because inspiration struck and I wasn’t about to let a lack of desk space stop me. If relationships are about meeting halfway, then let me tell you: writing and I have learned to compromise.

Rekindling the Magic: How to Stay Passionate

Like any great romance, passion requires effort to keep it alive, especially when the honeymoon phase is long gone. Here are a few tips I’ve learned over the years—ones that work for more than just writing:

  1. Show Up Consistently
    Relationships—and passions—thrive on regularity. Whether it’s writing for 15 minutes a day or simply journaling when inspiration strikes, staying engaged matters. Passion, like a good fling, fizzles without the effort.

  2. Find Your Cheerleaders
    Surround yourself with people who believe in your passion. For me, it was my parents, who tolerated my teenage argument that their cows had "personalities worth documenting." Today, it’s my friends and editors who remind me of why I started in the first place.

  3. Savor the Small Wins
    Finished a paragraph that makes you smile? Celebrate. Finally wrangle the perfect metaphor out of your overly caffeinated brain? High-five yourself. Passion isn’t a one-time victory—it’s a series of moments strung together.

  4. Don’t Overcomplicate It
    When you focus too hard on where your passion should take you, you sometimes forget to enjoy where it’s already brought you. Not everything has to be a grand masterpiece. Sometimes it’s enough to write because you have something to say—or to remind yourself you enjoy saying it.

Happily Ever After (For Now)

Here’s the funny thing about falling in love with your passion: it never really feels “finished.” Writing continues to teach me about life in ways I wouldn’t anticipate. Some days, it whispers a reminder of the beauty in small things, such as the way sunlight flickers through lodgepole pines. Other days, it hits me like a thunderclap, changing the way I see the world—or at least giving me a good enough story to tell my friends.

Much like a lifelong romance, every day is different. That’s the best part of falling in love with something that matters—it changes you, challenges you, and maybe even helps you grow in ways you didn’t expect.

So here’s my advice for anyone looking to reconnect with—or discover—their own passion: Listen to the small sparks, follow where they lead, and don’t worry if it doesn’t all come together at once. Passion isn’t a straight line. It’s an adventure—messy, beautiful, and uniquely yours to embrace.