In November 2024, I found myself on the receiving end of a companywide downsizing, or layoffs. The news hit hard at first. Those 15 minutes between getting the message (you know, the ominous one, “Can you hop on? Find somewhere… comfortable”) and the actual conversation felt like hours. My mind spiraled in all the directions you’d expect in a moment like that. What was I going to do next? What did this mean for my career as a copywriter? Was I even good enough?
But when the conversation actually took place, I felt weirdly calm. The generous severance package certainly helped soften the blow.
I wanted to take full advantage of my free time
When I didn’t have to sign in on Monday morning, I realized there were no emails to tend to, no fires to put out, no Zoom calls to join. Even during summer holidays when I was in college, I was always working, so this was the first time in my adult life that I had the rare and spectacular gift of time. Not “I’ll bring my laptop on my vacation” time or “I’ll fit in errands on the weekend” time, but absolute, unstructured, grown-up freedom.
And I could use it one of two ways: Option A) I could rot on my couch binge-watching my comfort show, “Grey’s Anatomy,” while doom-scrolling LinkedIn, or Option B) I could finally do the things I’d always sworn I didn’t have time for. Spoiler: I chose option B. No, I did not become a marathon runner, a a grad student, or a proud owner of a thriving herb garden. I signed up for a creative writing class and for the first time ever, I actually wrote a novel.
It has always been a dream of mine to write a book, but I had a million excuses for myself as to why I could never do it. Namely, I didn’t have time, but underneath that, the fear that I would be terrible at it. Getting out of my comfort zone to pursue a dream like that felt like trying to go bungee jumping, until I kind of had no other option but to leap.
I woke up every day and wrote, sitting at cozy coffee shops with perfectly frothed lattes, and chipped away at the biggest project I had ever tackled. It was also the only project I’ve ever done for myself.
Writing my book helped me rethink my future
It wasn’t exactly comfortable. Even as I built something new, the looming question of “what’s next?” clung to me like that itchy sweater I knew I needed to donate. Part of me thought that if I kept wearing it, I’d somehow regain control of my future. But as I poured myself into my novel, alongside swimming, freelancing, and reading, something unexpected happened. I started piecing together the next version of myself and what I wanted from my next job.
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I discovered that writing for something I was passionate about would take me further in my career than rushing to find my next gig. Five months in, I happened upon a job listing that felt as exciting as writing a book. I didn’t hesitate to apply.
I got the job a week later. Nothing had ever lit a fire in me so deeply. I sprinted (figuratively) to finish that book before my start date. It wasn’t just about crossing the finish line; it was proof that I could build something meaningful during a time of uncertainty. At 73,000 words, my book showed me that when I put my mind to something, I could accomplish it.
Finishing helped me step into my next chapter, not just refreshed, but more confident, grounded, and excited for what was ahead. And no — I didn’t binge-watch “Grey’s,” and that felt like an Olympic-level achievement in its own right. I didn’t have time.
