Growing up along the South Carolina coast, I learned early that life, much like the tides, has its ebbs and flows. Some moments sweep you off your feet, while others gently nudge you to rediscover your footing. When your parents own a beachside café, life is a mix of steady routines (coffee orders at sunrise) and unexpected chaos (a seagull snatching a tourist’s sandwich mid-bite). And somewhere in that messy, sun-drenched tapestry, I found what I loved most: storytelling.

It wasn’t love at first sight—or first word, I should say. In fact, "storytelling" sounds almost too romantic for what it was in the beginning. As a kid, I just knew that I was happiest with my nose buried in a book or creating dramatic mini soap operas with my Barbies (plot twist: Ken secretly worked at the café, too). It took years to realize what this passion meant for me, and even now, it has a sneaky way of growing deeper, like a slow-burn romance that keeps surprising you. Here’s how I fell in love—and stayed in love—with my passion for writing.

Act I: The Matchmaker (or How the Beach Brought Me an Endless Stream of Characters)

When you live in a tourist town, you’re basically surrounded by a rotating cast of characters straight out of a romantic dramedy. There’s the first-time vacationer in a neon bucket hat, the snowbird retirees who call everyone “honey,” and the honeymooning couple naively confident in their ability to tandem bike. Watching all these lives unfold around me was like studying human nature 101. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was collecting stories—like how you might inadvertently collect exes with terrible taste in music. Oops.

Summer nights with my family on the boardwalk were especially magical. Lights from the Ferris wheel glowed against the dark ocean, and waves crashed like a soundtrack no one could live up to. People laughed, argued, held hands, and got lost in the maze of carnival games. Even as a kid, I found myself wondering: Who are these people? Where did they come from? Why does that woman over there look like she’s plotting her boyfriend’s demise with a funnel cake? These questions baked into my brain and demanded answers. If others were happy being spectators, I wanted to be the creator—to write their stories, fill in their blanks, and give them adventures beyond the boardwalk.

Act II: Writing as My First Major Crush (and Its Awkward Phases)

If you’ve ever fallen for someone completely out of the blue, that’s how it felt when writing went from a fun outlet to something I took seriously. It hit me during my time in the College of Charleston’s English program. I wanted to be like my professors—those impossibly cool literary types who could analyze a single sentence of Carson McCullers for an hour without pausing for coffee. I spent evenings sprawled out in coffee shops, high on overpriced lattes and the thrill of submitting short stories to student workshops.

Of course, as with any love, there were growing pains. Writing made me vulnerable in ways I wasn’t prepared for. My early drafts read like a bad rom-com—so much forced dialogue and unnecessary drama—and there were moments when I thought my work would never measure up. But then there were breakthroughs: the first time a professor said, “This feels like yours,” or when a classmate pulled me aside and said my story reminded her of walking under the pier as a kid. Those moments were more electrifying than a good meet-cute, and soon, I was hooked.

Act III: Why Writing Is the Partner You’d Swipe Right on Forever

Relationships evolve, just like passions do. As a writer, mine shifted from trying to impress with poetic metaphors to telling authentic, reflective stories that mattered to me. Returning to Myrtle Beach after college wasn’t just a logistical move; it was about reuniting with the salty air and fiery sunsets that had been my greatest muses all along.

Transitioning into professional writing didn’t come without challenges—I mean, who dreams of writing Instagram captions for beachside resorts? (Spoiler: not me.) But even those experiences taught me important lessons, like how to tell a story in six words or less when you’re competing for someone’s scroll-stopping attention. And somewhere between drafting social media posts and writing articles about off-season oyster roasts, I found my rhythm. Writing stopped being something I had to chase, and instead became a companion, as steady and comforting as the tides at home.

Now, writing is my ultimate plus-one—whether it’s for freelance gigs, my next novel, or stories right here on this publication. Each project feels like a new date, keeping me curious and excited.

Here's What Writing Taught Me About Passion (and Life)

Along the way, I’ve picked up a few lessons that apply as much to finding your passion as they do to navigating relationships:

  1. Cherish the Slow Builds: Sometimes love isn’t instant. Give yourself permission to explore what excites you—whether that’s baking croissants, throwing pottery, or, yes, writing corny poems about the ocean. Passions take time to simmer before they become clear.

  2. Be Open to Redirections: If I had stayed in New York after my publishing internship, I might have ended up a very different kind of writer. But coming back to my roots made me a more grounded and purposeful storyteller. Sometimes the path forward looks a lot like going home—figuratively or literally.

  3. Let the World Inspire You: Stories are everywhere. If you pay attention to the way someone blushes when they laugh or how they nervously adjust their sunglasses before a first date, writing suddenly becomes less about process and more about connection. It’s almost like… flirting with life.

  4. Know That Love Evolves: Writing—and how I feel about it—has changed drastically since my Barbie soap opera days. But the core of it has stayed the same: a desire to understand people, capture emotion, and build connection. Let your passion grow with you.

The Happy Ending? It’s Still Being Written.

If you’re thinking, “Wow, writing sounds like a lot of work,” you’re not wrong. Passion is messy like that—like your first big heartbreak, your first kitchen disaster, or your first relationship where you realize communication is everything. But it’s worth it. Whether it’s writing for me or something entirely different for you, the best passions don’t just fill your time; they fill your soul. And trust me—when you love something deeply, you’ll never run out of stories to tell, new dreams to chase, and new ways to fall in love with the life you’re building.

So here’s to finding your “thing”—and holding on tight when you do.