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Are you one of those people who is stuck in a “dead-end” job that you hate? There is no way out sometimes, because you have to make money to live. Perhaps work is your “ball and chain.” If so, I empathize with you, but I feel a little guilty. You see, I’m fortunate enough to get to make a living telling stories. I’ve been lucky enough to find the perfect job for me.

There aren’t too many thrills that equal performing for an audience and watching them “fall into the story” with me. I enjoy the beauty and the power of the spoken word; I thrive on “connecting” with an audience; and if I make someone laugh, or cry, or think then I am overjoyed. Telling stories out loud is the one thing in my world that my conscience will allow me to say that I do well.

But, I can’t brag much, because I know that the ability to tell stories isn’t my doing. Yes, I do work hard at my craft, but I was blessed with “the gift of story.” Some people have great physical beauty or prowess. Others have the ability to render images to paper or can create incredible music. There are those who can make sense of math (balancing a checkbook with ease) or who understand science. A fortunate number of people were blessed with many gifts. Everyone has been blessed with gifts of some kind. Not everyone recognizes the gifts that they have.

I don’t have all the other gifts, but I was lucky to discover my gift of storytelling in my middle thirties. Actually, I didn’t discover storytelling; it found me, but that’s a story for another day. I wish I had become a storyteller sooner, but I might not have succeeded at it when I was younger. It takes a little bit of “living” in order to have something worthwhile to say. For more than twenty years, I have been paid to tell stories. Usually, I’m thankful for that; but not always.

I enjoy finding a story, re-writing it into words that fit my mouth, editing and rehearsing until I have honed the story for performance. That’s the easy part of the job for me. There are several parts of my job that I don’t care for in the least.

I do not like finding the jobs. Even though I have an excellent reputation as a storyteller, there is much competition for the school dollar, and schools are my “bread and butter.” Librarians retire or change jobs, so I have to track them down or meet a new contact. Storytellers race to be the first to book a school, and I’m slowing down in my old age. There is also the contracting and the accounting that I so despise. And, last (definitely not least) is the travel. I just don’t enjoy being “on the road.”

I don’t have to work in order for us to live. “So, why do you keep on?” you ask. I continue, because every time I think I will quit the business, I get a “sign.” I get an affirmation that I am doing what I was meant to do. This was the first:

I had been telling stories for about a year, and was not having great luck at getting jobs. We had recently moved to a different (more expensive), and I had quit my job as a nursing home administrator. The mortgage on this new house, which was smaller than the last one, was four times greater than our last mortgage had been. Without my regular income, we were struggling.

One morning, I woke up and began pondering the situation. “Why,” I wondered to the Power that is, “am I trying to be a storyteller? I have a college degree hanging in the laundry room waiting for me to need a paper towel. I need to look for a real job!”

I looked through the newspaper’s want ads, but no one wanted me. It was a crisis, so I dealt with it the way I always deal with a crisis: I threw myself on the bed and cried. Just then, the telephone rang.

It was a storyteller who had been at our last Storytelling Guild meeting. That’s where we all gather to sit through another teller’s story waiting for our turn to be the center of attention. I had told a funny folktale called “God Will Provide.”

She said, “Shelly, I loved the folktale you told at the last meeting, and I don’t know why I didn’t call sooner. I was thinking about you today, and wanted to tell you it’s become my favorite story. I lost my job and my husband lost his. Some days, we don’t have the money to buy gas to go look for a job. But, I tell my family your story, and we remember: If we use our wits, are generous with what little we have, and have faith—then God will provide.”

I hung up the phone with chills up my spine. I looked up and said, “OK, Big Guy. I get it. If my stories affect only one person, that’s what I’m supposed to do. But, if You want me to do this…we have to be able to eat!”

That afternoon, the phone rang again. This time, it was the library coordinator for a very large school district. She hired me to tell stories in seventeen schools the next month, and I made more that month than my (now ex)husband did.

I keep telling stories, because this is what I was meant to do. Though I may never be rolling in dough, I enjoy my job. That’s the best measure of success in my book.

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How do y’all feel about your job? Have you explored other options, or are you “trapped?” My husband has thought about finding something different, but he has no clue how to decide what to do after all his years as an engineer.

If you know of a “success” story,Riley Central Has a Blog Carnival going on right now. He wants “success stories of people who are doing what they love.” This is my entry.

Life is just around the corner is asking you to “share your blessings.” This would be my entry, but I didn’t get the title right. If you have blessings you want to share, visit her site and tell her.

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