Application: Okay, I get it. You need proof. After all, you are a bloody lawyer. Here it comes. Honored readers, I would like to submit as evidence the real story of me, Carol Vorvain. I'm a lawyer turned author, entrepreneur and travel journalist. 

Dear fellow lawyers, colleagues of suffering, chained to your desks, working your tail off, sometimes penniless, while everyone thinks you are all filthy rich.  

As I write this, I’m on a plane to San Francisco. I’m going to the Digital Book World, one of the most prestigious publishing events of the year. Writers Boon, the unique publishing platform I’ve founded three years ago is the event’s Media Partner.  I must admit I’m about to cry ... tears of joy. I can’t believe it!

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You see, I’ve just came back from the magical kingdom of Bhutan where Writers Boon got invited for a month. Before that, I had to go to Tahiti. Again for work. Trust me, working in Tahiti is hard work. I wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

However, times were not always sunny.

Five years ago, I was a fresh-off- the-boat Monash Law graduate qualified to practice in both common law and civil law jurisdictions.

I was also a mediator and I had a certificate in Public International Law from The Hague Academy of International Law. As one would say, I was loaded. I was in the best position to get my dream job. And yet, I didn’t.

On a beautiful morning, over an aromatic coffee, the senior partner in one of the law firms I always wanted to work for delivered the painful verdict: no, they will not offer me the position.

My hopes of a glamorous, highly paid career vanished. Pff. Just like that.

The good news? He had a piece of advice for me. It sounded more or less like this:

“You are beautiful. Go home, find yourself a husband, have babies, grow old. The end.”

The end? Oh, no! It was just the beginning. The beginning of years of confusion, anger, frustration and all the goodies one could bear.

My parents were in distress. I mean what would their friends say? You know how it is, nobody likes lawyers, but everyone feels that they should be the judge.

What was I going to do? Sell at Coles? Or was Woolies better? Any Aldi fans? Goodbye hope? Nope!

I stuck to my long time passion: writing. After all, since I learned how to scribble, my emotions never belonged to me. They belonged to the white piece of paper in front of me.

It took me only three months to write my first book. I didn’t send it to any literary agents. I self-published. One part of me was still hoping for the right opportunity: working as a lawyer of course.

A timely note from a reviewer changed my perspective and sometimes a change of perspective is all it takes to see the light.

It went like this:

“You write beautifully. No matter where the path leads you, you should always write. It brings out the best of you, it makes you happy and makes others who read your writing happy as well. This is no small matter. This is in fact what we are all chasing. One way or another. But you found your way.”

That day, holding my Precious in my hands, I cried. My heart was filled with some sort of relief, joy and a pinch of sadness.

There is an old Indian proverb that says that before we can see properly we must first shed our tears to clear the way. And so it was. I cried and I cried and when I stopped crying, I knew what to do next.

In less than five months, my second book was ready to be printed.

But was I all done, all finished? No way. I was just getting into the swing of it.

Without serving an ultimate goal, writing was fulfilling the noblest of purposes: it was helping me live in the moment, stop dwelling on the past or worry about the future. Through my characters I was asking questions before I would never dare to ask afraid of my own answers.

As I was working on my third book, A Fool in Istanbul: The Adventures of a Self-denying Workaholic, I realized that Atticus, the main protagonist, was pretty much what I was so close of becoming. He was a control freak, a prudish know it all, stiff and stern, not here to burn. Life didn’t happen to him because he didn’t let it happen, afraid it won’t happen the only way he wanted it to happen: his way.

His transformation from a peon under neon to a bum under the sun was hilarious. The realization of all the years he wasted trying to become what the world would call “sorted” was less so.

In many ways, Atticus’ journey was my journey. Writing him not only was making me laugh, it was making me ponder on what kind of life I wanted to build for myself.

The transition from books to building a platform for indie authors came as a natural step. By now, I knew so much about the writing, publishing and marketing process. Of course, same as building a legal career, it did involve thousands of hours of work.

But this time, I was my own boss, nobody could hire me or fire me, or even better tell me to get married. This time, I had the flexibility to travel and the opportunity to get paid for it. Without hopping on a city train each morning, this time I was on the right track.

The moral of the story? Well, Henry David Thoreau once said: “Time is but the stream I go fishing in”. I say, “Life is but a stream we go fishing in…”

Yours,

The Never-Lawyer, Carol Vorvain.

Conclusion:

It’s hard to give up on something you held on to for so long. In a way it becomes part of you ... but so does gangrene. Would you let it set in?

Carol Vorvain is an Australian lawyer, travel presenter, author and founder of Writers Boon, the discount marketplace for writers.