I have grown up in a period where the attitude towards careers lies somewhere in between utter disdain for the arts (read anything that isn’t part of the handful of careers that parents generally consider serious) and acceptance that people can actually make money from things other than sitting in an office all day.

So we (my siblings and I) got our parents to spend money and time encouraging us to pursue ‘other’ things. Things that were not meant to be ‘serious’ careers. My brother threw himself into music, I dabbled in both music and writing…and it wasn’t considered a waste of time. My mother likes to use the term ‘self-development’.

Still, they were ‘other things’. They were not career paths. They were hobbies. Interests. If you intended to shun proper careers in lieu of these others, it was quickly made clear that those could be pursued at any other time, and on your own money…which you were going to get from the serious things. Like law. Or engineering.

It was confusing because you were allowed to love these other things, just not too much. And so they have remained in the category ‘self-development’.

Which is so much better than many people have it. My parents have never told us that our other things were a waste of time. Even the ones that ended up actually being a waste of time and money were never treated as useless. They were there and if one of us was interested in something, my parents did as much as they could to encourage it. If our hobbies fizzled out, it could never be said that it was because of them.

The result of this dichotomy between serious things and other things was that for me, even as my mother pushed and pushed for me to write and write, it was never something I thought I could do, like as a job. The concept of ‘writer’ as a career is still very new to me. I’m amazed everyday when I hear of or meet people who are full time writers and live well enough off this. To me, it is the equivalent of a young girl hearing that mermaids actually exist: something that has always been impossible, out of reach, belonging in fantasy rather than reality… and suddenly, there it is, as beautiful as you ever imagined.

I first heard of Abigail Arunga, about a year and a half ago. I only knew that she was a writer, I didn’t know what of, or anything else about. Today, so far, I have heard her speak at an event once and have met her twice, and both times I have perceived her as proof that my dreams are valid. The first thing I picked up about her was her voice, which had this deep quality I find difficult to describe. Her words came quickly, like she had many things to say and wanted to get them all out at once.

The second thing was that she was living my future life—one that allowed her to wake up at times that would convince my mother that she has nothing to do. Because people with ‘serious’ things to do wake up at 6.

For this reason I decided to be bold and look for her, if only for a conversation. You know, shooting my shot and all that. And I’m glad for that bout of adventurousness because apart from confirming that she’s a pretty cool person, she brought my dream even closer to my reach. And here is what I learned, or part of it, at least:

1. You are a writer if you write. There is not much else to it. So those your doubts and fears about whether or not you can call yourself a writer— you might be overthinking it a bit. All you need to do to improve your craft is to write a lot and read a lot. Every other piece of writing advice you have heard becomes irrelevant if those two don’t happen. So best get to work.

2. Publishing is good. But the publishing industry in the country may send you to an early grave if you insist on keeping up with the stress of trying to get to them in the first place. So consider your options. You can self-publish like Abigail did. You can publish online. You can go after international magazines or publishers. Whichever way you go, you need to be prepared for painful things, you know, like hard work, or rejection.

People like Miss Arunga are proof that it is possible. That those ‘other’ things can be so much more than just hobbies. You can live off your art. You can live off your music. You can live off your words. You can live off your designs. We are privileged to even have evidence to show that it can be done. Evidence that there are other careers apart from law, engineering and medicine.

Would your parents be pleased and completely pumped if you were to tell them you believe deejaying is your calling? Probably not. Will the starving artist stereotype suddenly disappear because of your energy and your drive to succeed? Probably not. But at least you know that it is possible. There are people who are now what we hope to be.

So go forth, young writer (or as applies to you). Your dreams are valid, as was put by another achiever in ‘other’ things. Your art matters. Plus, you have a chance to meet a whole bunch of people who have succeeded in these other things, people like Abigail Arunga, at this year’s Storymoja Festival. It’s a plan, yes?