Some people say specialization is the key to success. I believe that’s true, but I’ve never managed to apply it to my own career.
At fourteen, I got my first camera, a Pentax K1000, and decided I wanted to be a National Geographic photographer. But after high school, I earned a degree in graphic design instead. My father convinced me it was the job of the future. It was the early nineties. Apple had just launched those colorful iMac G3s (mine was blue), and I was genuinely excited. My first job was at an ad agency filled with interesting creatives. I had a blast until 9/11, when the agency downsized and let all the fun people go. I ended up working alone in a large room full of empty desks. Very depressing.
I moved on to a smaller agency and then to a magazine publisher, but none ever matched the energy of that first job. Eventually, I ended up with a psycho boss who gave me no choice but to quit. I opened my own design studio, which became the most lucrative job of my career, even if not the most creatively satisfying.
With the money I earned, I co-founded a stationery company. I was into pattern design, and my business partner was passionate about notecards and greeting cards. We both cared about the environment and wanted to create gift wraps and cards that were recycled and recyclable, something we couldn’t find in stores. Unfortunately, we launched in 2008, right as the recession hit. We never made a dime. In the end, we donated our inventory to a school, a children’s hospital, and an organization that gives gifts to kids in need.
Meanwhile, my design clients started vanishing due to budget cuts. Most were from the construction sector, so all the foreclosures were not helping them. Around that time, a magazine editor I’d worked with read an essay I wrote about my Pentax camera and told me I had a great voice. Imagine that. She encouraged me to take creative writing classes. I did, and I loved them. I earned high grades and discovered a new creative outlet, but I had to stop when the money ran out. I needed a job, but by then, I was utterly disillusioned with the instability of design work.
That’s when a friend who was the principal of a K–12 special education school invited me to apply for a para-educator role. I got the job and ended up teaching technology and social skills to students. I also became the backup IT person, designed the school newsletter, maintained the website, edited weekly announcement videos, photographed events, and produced the yearbook. It was exhausting and joyful. Of course, the pay was insufficient, so I freelanced in the afternoons doing graphic design and photo retouching for a photography studio. Still, I fell in love with teaching and decided to return to school for a B.A. in English Literature from Grand Canyon University. I planned to pursue a master's and eventually a PhD, but the increase in school shootings had me question that decision and put future degrees on hold.
After graduating, I began editing college papers and tutoring students in writing. I also offered tutoring in Photoshop and Lightroom because why not? My tutoring profile must have looked like a strange mashup of skills. My LinkedIn was even worse, cluttered with too many disconnected specialties, so I eventually deleted it. Then, ChatGPT became popular, and most of my writing students vanished overnight. My tutoring profile finally became specialized in Adobe photo apps. At the same time, I continued to do photo retouching for a handful of photographers.
Ironically, losing students to AI gave me the time to finish my first novel, Orbiting Hearts, which I hope is the first of many. So, will I ever specialize in one thing? Maybe. If I sell enough books to quit all the other jobs. But first, I must land a literary agent. Until then, I’ll keep writing and moving forward with the messy, unpredictable path that has introduced me to skills I never expected to learn and people I never would have met otherwise.