Zero Hour

One of these days, I will depart my HR career and continue my journey as a novelist.

Not start my journey as a novelist; continue it. That's because my HR experience has been only part of my journey. It doesn't define even half of what I've been through and who I've become.

When I pause to examine my working hours - whether I do that in the thick of it at work or on weekends here at home with my family - I can quickly total the number of hours in the day when I felt like I really belonged in my role with my colleagues at my company.

That sum is zero.

Zero hours.

Doesn't mean my work is unendurable. It isn't. In fact, I have a well-paying job at a respected company in a highly competitive environment. And I work with some of the industry's very best.

However, day in and day out I'm reminded just how much I truly don't belong there.

Big personalities and humble servants. Corporate-speak and change management. Uncertain demands and urgent deadlines.

And lately, I've begun to recognize this lingering feeling as a blessing.

I'm glad I feel this way. I'm relieved I finally can call it what it is: a prompting.

I don't belong. I'm not part-and-parcel an HR guy. It doesn't define me. It's not my end-game.

I'm a novelist. In my heart and in my head and at my fingertips.

I love stories. People fascinate me.

I love the craft of writing, whether it's a script or a short story or a novel. It's challenging, intimidating, and often frustrating. But nothing is more rewarding.

One of these days, I will make the leap and resign from the company that has treated me so well. I'll miss the wonderful people I work with. I might even miss the less-than-wonderful ones.

But I will take the leap. Bail. Cut the cord. Pull the chute.

That'll be my Zero Hour.

I'm looking forward to it.