As I wrote about and shared earlier today, I picked up the practice of writing in a journal as a part of my journey of the past fourteen years. Another suggestion that someone made was to get a hobby. Given the fact that my father had taken so many pictures in the past and the newer technology made it so much easier to get quality shots, I decided to take up photography.
Over the years, I’ve taken thousands and thousands of pictures. Being out in nature, especially the mountains, is one of my favorite pastimes now. I also go to a local open mic event each month and take pictures of the performers and audience. Very rarely a week goes by that I don’t take pictures of something I see out and about.
Beginning next week, I’ll be taking pictures for the local newspaper for a salary. A friend that knew of my love for photography sent me an ad he had seen where the editor was looking for a nightlife photographer. I responded to the ad, including some of the pictures I had taken at the most recent open-mic event.
After not hearing back after over a month, I assumed someone with better credentials had been hired for the job. That was, until this week. I received a call from the editor and he asked if I was still interested in the position, which of course I was. He said he had several other potentials to contact and that he would call me back the next day. The next day came and went and once again, I figured someone else had gotten the position. That at least was, until today.
I received a call during lunch from the paper’s phone number and sent the call to voicemail. No voicemail was left. When I got home, I saw an email from the editor offering me the position starting next week. I’ll be going by the newspaper offices one day next week to sign a contract and work out the details.
So one thing leads to another and for the first time in my life, I can call myself a professional photographer.