On becoming a writer

I heard the call to become a writer echo through my bones on a bright, sunny day in May. I had just finished reading Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir, and I knew. It was as if the book were a doorway into another world, leading me to a different version of myself—a writer, an author, a storyteller.

I had always flirted with writing a novel, but things didn’t get serious until That Day in May. I started writing immediately and quickly learned that I was terrible at it. I didn’t have the words or know how to find them. I needed to learn how to write. So, like anyone eager to start a new adventure, I turned to YouTube. Hours disappeared as I watched everything I could on how to write a good story.

The internet is a bottomless pit of information that sometimes overwhelms me, but I drudged through and found some great resources. I didn’t take long to prioritize writing advice from successful authors. One piece of advice from Stephen King, an author I admire, stood out:

If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all others: read a lot and write a lot.

It made sense. It was so simple. I wasn’t writing how I felt I could because I didn’t have enough to draw from. If you were learning to play chess or the piano, you would do well for yourself by simply consuming as much of the art as you could. By watching grandmasters play or listening to a great jazz album, you can begin to understand what’s possible. But consuming isn’t enough—at some point, you have to play.

That’s when all my problems started.

Finding the bridge between two worlds

My background is in software. I’ve loved working as a software engineer. I remember writing code all day at work, excited to go home and write code all night. I filled my nights and weekends with side projects, hoping one of them would take off. I spent hours every day immersing myself in the world of code and startups. Being a developer and founder were a core part of my identity—and then, one day, they weren’t.

I’m not sure when everything changed, but I know That Day in May was the beginning. I went from being a developer and founder to being a writer. I was completely enamored with stories. I realized I could spend all day reading and writing, but I couldn’t justify doing so. I had bills to pay and a family to provide for. Soon, a quiet bitterness took root. I began to feel trapped between what I was supposed to do and what I truly wanted.

This period of my life was filled with uncertainty and frustration. I knew I wanted to write full-time but also needed to make a living. I couldn’t afford to become a starving artist. I was paralyzed with indecision, thinking about switching careers at the age of forty—to become a writer, no less! I needed to bridge my experience with my goals to provide for my family while pursuing my new career.

I explored several ideas: sales, marketing, copywriting, growth engineering. I heard about companies using email to drive growth and started experimenting with my business. I noticed that the emails I loved writing—and the ones people actually responded to—were not promotional emails. They were stories.

That’s when things began to click. Maybe writing emails could be my entry point. Could I make a living writing story-driven emails? Could I write all day at work, excited to go home and write all night?

Email? Really?

You may be wondering how I went from wanting to write fiction to writing emails. I get it. I just made myself laugh, too. But emails are a starting point. When I was learning to build software, I spent all day, every day, writing code. I need to do the same for writing stories. I need reps. Writing emails for businesses can provide that if I play my cards right.

So many businesses struggle with email. They either don’t have time to write them or don’t know what to write about. They often default to something too heavy on the promotional side, resulting in emails that get ignored. What’s worse is when they avoid sending emails at all because they feel like they’re spamming their audience. I know this because I’ve been there.

As a founder, I know that the best-performing emails—the ones I enjoy sending—are the ones that tell a story. They’re authentic, personal, human. They aren’t just transactional, they’re conversational. They’re the ones that don’t read like an ad—they’re the ones that take the reader on a journey.

From software engineer and founder to… writer?

It took me a long time to accept this career change. Writing feels more like a calling than a choice. The more I ignore it, the louder it gets. The more I wrestle with fate, the more I feel like a phony—pretending to be someone I’m not. Writing might be my calling, but becoming a writer is a choice. I can either embrace the unknown or go back to pretending I’m someone I’m not—making myself miserable in the process.

I’m tired of pretending I can go back to being a software engineer. I want to write, but more importantly, I want to make a living as a writer. I am not what I used to be. I am who I choose to become. I am choosing to become a writer.

It’s time to experiment

The only way to find out if I have a shot at being a writer is to start. I’ve spent way too much time in my head thinking about this. It’s time to put these thoughts into action.

I’ll start by offering story-driven emails that turn boring promotional messages into something people actually want to read. I like email because it’s perfect for quick, iterative experiments with a tight feedback loop.

Emails also offer a high return on investment—if you do them right. Most people only send promotional emails. And sure, those have their place, but if that’s all you’re sending, you’re missing out. It’s like going on YouTube just to watch the ads. Sounds ridiculous, right? Yet so many companies do exactly that with their emails.

I want to help people stand out in a crowded inbox. They’ll get emails that feel human, like a conversation instead of a commercial, and I’ll get to embrace writing fully.

We proceed

Truth be told, I’m nervous as hell. Going from software engineer and founder to writer is a terrifying leap of faith. But here I am, moving forward anyway. I refuse to remain paralyzed between fear and possibility.

That Day in May set off a chain of events that led me to this alternative version of myself. Instead of wrestling helplessly with fate, I’m choosing to shape it. I may not always get it right, but at least I’ll be an active participant, no longer frozen in place.