Have you let someone dissuade you from your dreams?

And why that's our first mistake

I have a very vivid memory of sitting in my fifth grade class as we were all being prompted to share what we wanted to be when we grew up. I was excited to share mine, even though everyone already knew because I wouldn’t shut up about it because I’d already known for the greater part of three years (since I was in second grade) that I wanted to be a writer.

Finally, it got to be my turn and I said “I want to write books” to which someone replied — and I can’t remember if it was the teacher (who was a known asshole) or another student — that there was no money to be made in writing.

I probably didn’t know what this meant since I was literally in fifth grade and my brain wasn’t quite developed enough to understand that to be an adult in the world meant that you had to work for money. I hadn’t understood yet that following your dreams was a story we sold to children in their formative years, only to rip them away as they came of age. That we were made to trade them for the grim reality that most people settle for: you either live to work or you work to live and neither choice is really a choice.

When I was older, this idea that writers didn’t make money from writing books was reinforced by my father. My mother never quite dissuaded me, but she had done her own work of never encouraging imaginative projects. My mom was very much of the mindset that if you don’t work you die, and if you have any spare time for creativity and imagination you could probably put it to better use and find something more productive to do. It’s well-known across Latinx communities that you can’t ever mention being bored to your parents because they’ll tell you to clean the house.

Close to finishing high school, the fear had been embedded in me: I needed to find a job that I could do to make money so that someday, maybe, possibly, I could write books on the side. And maybe, possibly, become a big-time author.

And thus I began what became a blossoming adulthood in which I felt lost and confused as to where I was supposed to be, what I was supposed to do, or where I was supposed to go.

I spent my early adult years working jobs that sucked the life out of me. I wasn’t even making good money. But I came from a very low-class family and those were my options. I showed up day in and day out to make what crumbs that corporate company decided my time and energy were worth and trudged through exhaustion at the end of the day to teach myself how to be a good writer.

At the tender age of eight, I knew I wanted to be a writer. This was such solid knowledge to me that I was probably one of the few children in that second-grade class who knew what it meant to have a calling. I might’ve been the only child in that classroom who, in thirty-plus years, still hears that calling as clearly as the first day.

But I let myself be dissuaded. By my parents, by society, by what we claim to be the reality of life. I think back now and think: if only I’d been shown a bit more support, been taught to have just a bit more confidence, I could’ve followed my dreams with every atom of my existence from the very beginning, and who knows where I’d be now.

But instead, I split my energy and used most of it to pursue survival. A survival mentality that stretches down both sides of my family for many generations. And I can’t blame them. They, too, were just trying to do their best with what they had and with what they had been given — tools for confidence included.

But now that my therapist has given me the tools I need to believe in myself, I see things very differently than I did years ago.

Henry Ford famously said once, “If you think you can and if you think you can’t, you’re right.” Looking back at my life, I know that a lot of circumstances were set up against me whether it was because I came from a low-income family or because that low-income family also had limiting beliefs that kept them stuck. But I know that there are also other people who came from low-income families who were able to break out of those chains and manifest their dreams (Alexandria Ocasio Cortez comes to mind). I fully believe that confidence and a full-fledged, bordering-on-delulu belief that you can achieve something is also a very important part of making dreams a reality.

I’m wary of spending too much time wondering “What could I have done with half the confidence I have now back then?” Because I can’t reach into the past and change things. But I know that I have the confidence now, and I have the energy to be absolutely delulu about it. I’ve gained the tools I need to shut the voices down that spout statistics, that repeat annoying adages like “some people are the rule, not the exception.” I want to be the exception now and I refuse to be fed any more commentary that tries to convince me that “that’s just the way the world works.”

I have several sticky notes scattered around my desk, one of them which says “I am not limited by the physicality of my reality.” I don’t care what studies show. I don’t care about generational patterns — I’ve already broken so many of those, and that’s all the proof I need.

I’ve stopped and listened to the last “writers don’t really make enough money to survive from just writing” comment. I can’t go back and make my younger self ignore those people, but I can choose right now never to let them convince me again.

Like I told my therapist last week, I’ve realized that life isn’t about “Are they going to let me?” It’s about “How badly do I want it and how fiercely am I ready and willing to pursue it?”

Dear eight-year-old self who’s just discovered she wants to be a writer, dear teenage self getting ready to enter the adult world, dear me five years ago who’s about to finally find out: We’re f*cking doing this and nothing is going to stop us this time.

And to you, who are reading this right now: what would you let yourself achieve if no one could ever convince you that you couldn’t?

This month on the blog

How to Write the Friends-to-Lovers Trope

This post has all the information you need to ensure that your friends-to-lovers story is landing the jump!

How to Deal with Envy When You’re a Writer

The taboo on feeling jealousy and envy needs to end. Read this post to learn why those are two very common, very normal emotions and how we can learn to manage them better in order to become better creatives.

Editing sale

I have an editing sale coming up in mid-April, so check back on my website and social media and stay tuned for that!

What I’ve been into this month

At last, I can finally say I HAVE FINALLY FINISHED THE FIRST DRAFT OF MY CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE NOVEL!

I decided this is the year that I’m going to properly finish a manuscript and that included finishing a usable first draft. And so I did.

There are a lot of variables right now that are making me feel like maybe being excited about this shouldn’t be a thing — the state of the world, namely. But I know how hard it has been to finish anything that I deem usable before, so I know this is a big deal and thus I’m trying not to sweep it under the rug.

My next step will be to let it rest for about a month and then I’ll print it and have a go at editing it so I can create an even more cohesive second draft. In the meantime, I’m not back to figuring out the knots of my historical fiction which I left undone late last year. With some luck and lots of perseverance, I hope to finish the first draft of that manuscript this year as well.

I’ve also been doing a lot of crocheting this month. I’ve found it’s such a great way of stimming. Putting all that energy into loops and stitches can feel so gratifying. Maybe I’ll share a bit of what I crochet here as I progress.

As for reading, this month, I’ve encountered some duds and nothing that I’m excited to write about. I buddy read How to End a Love Story by Yulin Kuang, which my sister and I both did not enjoy (putting it lightly). The tone of that book was way off. It felt like it was trying to be too many things at once and achieved no more than a messy, incoherent narrative. Then I read Water Moon by Samantha Sotto Yambao which also disappointed me. Again, a lot of things that just didn’t click together well for that narrative, in my opinion. Finally, I’ve settled for The Unhoneymooners by Christina Lauren which is an easy read and it’s just hard to fail with a well-known, light, and breezy romcom like this one.

April is upon us, and how the hell are we done with the first quarter of 2025 already? But I’m excited for summer. Going through my calendar and daily planner, I don’t think I’ve ever had a year so crammed with exciting dates before. But really, I’m just so grateful every time I step outside that the frigid temperatures are gone. (Who could believe that just over a month ago we were buried in snow where I live?)

I hope April delivers everything you’re dreaming of and more. With the sun out for longer and the skies so vibrantly blue, who can’t help but dream and hope?

Until next time,

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Hi there, I’m Maria! I’m a freelance fiction editor assisting women writers in amplifying their voices through their writing. You can find me on Instagram @theintuitivedesk and on Pinterest. Or visit my site www. theintuitivedesk.com to find out more about editing services.