Why I Quit My Job to Focus Full-Time on My Writing and Upcoming Book Release
I’ll be honest with you; the decision to leave my job wasn’t easy. But when I think about it now, I realize I’ve spent so much time battling this internal tug-of-war between the comfort of stability and my creative heart. For years, I’ve been working full-time jobs while pouring my soul into writing on the side. It’s been a delicate balance, a juggling act of deadlines, to-do lists, and endless cups of coffee. But lately, something shifted. The stories I’ve been carrying in my chest finally began to demand more attention than I was able to give. And so, I did it. I walked away from my job. I made the terrifying, exhilarating leap into the unknown. I’m focusing on my writing full-time now.
It’s a scary thing, making such a big change, especially when you’ve spent most of your life tethered to a predictable routine. But deep down, I knew it was time. I’ve spent too long convincing myself that I could hold it all together—working my day job, writing late into the night, and somehow keeping my mental health in check. But the truth is, I was always running on empty. Writing has always been a part of me, but I wasn’t able to nurture it in the way it needed. There was no space for it. I didn’t give my writing the focus or care that it deserves.
And let’s talk about that upcoming book release. It’s not just any book. This is something I’ve poured my heart and soul into, and the closer I get to the launch date, the more I realize just how much work goes into getting everything right. From final edits to marketing, social media to interviews—I realized that I was trying to do it all with one foot still in the corporate world, and that’s not sustainable.
But what I haven’t shared with you is the personal storm I’ve been weathering alongside all of this. A devastating breakup nearly destroyed me. It was one of those soul-shattering moments you never expect to come, but when it does, it hits harder than anything you could have imagined. I won’t go into the details, but let’s just say that when that relationship ended, it felt like a part of me was ripped away.
And with that, my writing came to a screeching halt. The words stopped flowing, the ideas froze. It was as if I’d lost the very energy that made my pieces possible. I could barely get out of bed, let alone sit at my desk and put words on paper. The heartbreak wasn’t just emotional—it was physical, draining me in a way I couldn’t explain. For months, I didn’t write. I couldn’t. I didn’t have the strength. Every time I tried, I found myself staring at a blank page, my mind too consumed by the weight of grief to focus on anything else.
I’m not going to pretend like I have everything figured out now. The scars from that breakup still linger, but with time, I’ve slowly started to heal. In the process, I’ve discovered something about myself: I can’t keep living in this limbo, torn between the safety of a job I don’t love and the pull of something I was born to do. I realized that I was waiting for a perfect moment—waiting until I was fully healed, until I was “ready.” But here’s the truth: there is no perfect moment. Healing is messy, and growth often looks like death.
That’s why I made the decision to quit my job. I can no longer put off what has always been my truest calling. I can’t keep running from my writing, even when it feels terrifying or even impossible. I need to give myself the space to create, to heal through the pieces that I write, and to allow my voice to find its way out of the darkness.
I’m not going to lie and say it’s easy. The fear is real. What if it doesn’t work out? What if I can’t make this financially viable? What if people don’t care about my writing, or worse? There’s a part of me that’s terrified of failing. But then there’s another part of me, a part I’ve ignored for years, that knows I’m doing the right thing.
The truth is, I’d rather fail at something I’m passionate about than live a life full of “what ifs.”
So, here I am, writing this blog post to you as a reminder that sometimes you have to take risks to truly live. To the people who are still sitting at jobs they hate because they’re too afraid to take a chance—take it from me: You’ll never know if you don’t try. But the thing about staying in a comfortable place for too long is that it keeps you from growing. And growth, especially the kind that pushes you to follow your dreams, requires discomfort.
The path ahead is uncertain, and I have no idea exactly how things will unfold. But that’s the beauty of it, isn’t it? I’m walking into the unknown with nothing but my words, stories, and the belief that this is where I’m meant to be.
To anyone who has supported me along this journey, thank you. Your encouragement and belief in me have made all the difference. And to those who are just discovering my work, get ready, because this book is just the beginning.
I’m about to enter the newest chapter of my life, and though so much is uncertain, I’m ready to see what this next adventure has in store.
Thank you for being here with me.
Imperfectly yours,
Siobhan Darling
