My project for course: The Art of Storytelling for Freelancers and Creators

The Ball pen fighter jets and cardboard carriers..

The Green Rotomac ball pen became a fighter jet. A refrigerator's cardboard box transformed into an aircraft carrier. A broken radio set morphed into a giant robot, and tiny AA batteries turned into armies with bottle caps as helmets.

My Conflict
This was the study room of 10-year-old me. Thanks to hundreds of comic books, grandma's stories, and cartoons, I developed an addiction to imagination and storytelling from a very early age. I always envisioned my future career as a storyteller just like my grandma, without even knowing what “job security” is

Traditional classrooms, with their rigid textbooks and endless rules, never captured my attention.
I studied in a rural school where creativity was stifled, not nurtured.
When I excitedly shared a story about my pet cows, the teacher interrupted me.
“Write about cows from the textbook,” he said.
The English teacher drilled grammar rules into us, but no one ever asked, “What story do you want to tell?”

Science class? Well, that was a black hole of facts. We memorized equations, formulas but never discussed why the sky is blue or the night dark.

Did college change things?

No, not really. I chose economics, only to feel overwhelmed by theories and notes that didn’t seem relevant to the world around me.
“Why is inequality growing even as GDP hits its peak?” I asked the professor
He stared towards me as if I asked his ATM number..

Every question I asked about the current world, about economics, inequality, or socio economic issues …was met with silence. It became clear: college wasn’t a place for questions, only to mug up answers someone else had already written. So, I left.

The First Time I Quit
When I told my parents, they cried. They didn’t understand why I’d throw away my education, my future. But they saw I was struggling. Eventually, they stopped asking questions, perhaps knowing I had to find my way.

Twenty years later….at office..

Twenty years later, I stood in front of an HR , going through an exit interview.

“You’ve been a dedicated employee,” she said, her voice filled with corporate politeness. “Why are you leaving?”

I flashed back to that day with my father, 20 years ago, when he asked the same question about college. The answer was no different now.

“I can’t fit in.”

She looked at me, perhaps seeing the weariness in my eyes. “I understand,” she said, “I wish we could’ve done more.”

We finished the formalities, and after 11 years of what felt like imprisonment, I left.

I got home. My parents weren’t exactly happy—understandably so. I had no certainty about my future. That night, I couldn’t sleep. I kept wondering, "What now? How will I feed myself?"

It was a stressful night. My heart was in race, I was drenched in sweat, I felt like circling around my own doubts.. feeling like I’d made a huge mistake.

Then, something inside me whispered: "What’s been bothering you all these years, from dropping out of college to leaving your job?"

Storyteller…

I asked, I asked… and I asked again. The answer came: craft, creativity, curiosity, communication.

For so long, I’d been a quitter. But now, I knew this was my chance. This time, I wouldn’t quit. I would finish what I’d been chasing since childhood:

I would become a storyteller.

Crafting stories, creating ideas, generating curiosity, and communicating with the masses.

I wanted to shout in happiness but somehow held it in.

New Dawn New Me

The next morning, I felt like it was a new dawn, a fresh start for a new venture.

Now, it was time to figure out my path. To become a storyteller, I needed to write, or speak.

I had a bit of experience with writing, but I was never a good orator. So, writing it would be.

I had written on Facebook before—mostly two-liners or at most five paragraphs—but I knew if I wanted to establish myself as a storyteller, I couldn’t limit myself to such brief posts. That day, I wrote a minimum five-paragraph post about my experiences during COVID and published it on Facebook.

And then, I waited and waited,hoping for a reaction….

Nothing happened!

I even added a comment to keep it alive in the timeline. Still, nothing !

I wasn’t feeling great about it. So, I WhatsApped the post to a well-wisher, asking for her thoughts. She didn’t respond. When I called her, she said, "The post is too long and difficult to read."

That was enough of a reality check.

I realized the storytelling approach I had in mind wasn’t working. I needed to get trained by the right sources.

I Googled "English creative writing courses" and found a one-week course. It turned out to be a solid foundation for me. I learned several tips and techniques for writing persuasive copy.

Journey from Zero to 60,000

Things started improving. My Facebook engagement grew, and my connections increased. I remember one of my posts went viral—it was shared 300 times, with 60,000 engagements.

That was a major confidence boost. I felt like good fortune was finally starting to shine.

Despite my success on Facebook, I still hadn’t figured out how to make money from my writing. I read about LinkedIn and how startups and individuals were scouting for writers there.

I started writing for LinkedIn. Writing there is a gamble. After three years of effort, I finally managed to secure two personal branding projects.

In those three years, I also built a strong Facebook community that loves my writing and supports my opinions. Meanwhile, I’ve explored other blogging platforms like Substack, Medium, and WordPress to publish my content.

A Journey, Not a Destination
My journey so far is nothing to shout from the rooftops about, but it’s something. I’m learning, improving my craft every day. I’m meeting new people, understanding new perspectives, and above all, I’m still writing.

I’m not quitting this time. I’ve spent my life running away, but now, I’m running toward something—a future where storytelling is my life, not just a dream. This time, I’ll see it through.