As author Richard Ford said in this article about money and the writer, “It mattered a great deal more that my novel would be read than that somebody paid me."  

When you’re a writer, sentiments like this seems so romantic. You do it for the love. You do it for the passion. You do it because you’re writing about something that matters and you want to shout it from the rooftops so everyone can hear.

My cat taught me an important lesson this week. In the summer I spend a lot of time in my back yard, which means I'm constantly going in and out of my patio door. Chloe is an indoor cat, but she likes to lay inside the door and watch what I'm doing. As I go in and out of the house, I'm always having to step over her as she eagerly sniffs the air and gazes longingly outside.

But she never moves.

I've worked hard my entire life. Really, really hard. From a young age I bought into statements like: "Nothing in life comes easy," "You have to fight to make it in the world," and "If it was easy, everyone would do it." I pushed myself to win every award I could in high school. Then I pushed myself to become one of the first few people in my family to go to university. Then I worked my butt off to get 90s in all my classes. Like a blacksmith working hot metal, I spent countless hours trying to hammer my life into the shape I desired.

As you may remember, last year I decided to leave the security of my J-O-B and work for myself. It was one of the scariest things I've ever done.

I was leaving behind an almost 20-year track record of salary and benefits, a salary and benefits my family had always relied on. I can promise you I didn’t take the decision to quit lightly. I spent many sleepless nights thinking about every possible worst-case scenario.

But I knew the job I once loved no longer offered me the same meaning and satisfaction. I knew that coaching and entrepreneurship completely lit me up inside. I knew I was talking about my one precious life. And so in the end I thought, how can I not quit?