It is always the courage to take a step forward that creates small miracles.

Before I knew it, 25 years had passed since I started working as a freelance writer.
However, it is not as if things have always been smooth sailing. There were times when the projects I had contracted were reduced to almost zero due to client circumstances, and times when I worried that I was just taking on more work without being able to write what I truly wanted to write.

Since I started with no connections or anything else, in the beginning, I took on work with a "I'll do anything!" stance.
Because of that, I wrote about all sorts of things for all kinds of media, but when I reached my mid-30s, I began to wonder, "Is it really okay to be a 'jack-of-all-trades' forever?"
To be able to "write anything" means, conversely, that I have "no specialization." Can I really keep going like this in the future?
Unlike my 20s, when I kept running recklessly, my 30s were a time to stop and think a little, and my worries only grew deeper.

At that time, I met a woman during an interview. She was a lecturer at a seminar for job seekers, and I interviewed her for an article about that seminar.
After the interview, we were chatting casually and hit it off when we realized we both liked sake. Since neither she nor I had any problem (in fact, we enjoyed) going out for a drink with someone we had just met, she introduced me to a direct-managed store of "Tamanohikari" in Higashi-Umeda, and we went together.

We talked about many things while sharing sake, mingling with salarymen on their way home from work. When I told her, "I'm worried right now," about my future direction and my anxiety about not having a specialty, she said this.

"If you like sake that much, why don't you try getting a Kikisake-shi (Sake Sommelier) certification?"

A Kikisake-shi?!
I vaguely knew that such a qualification existed, but I had never even thought about getting it myself.

"Huh? But isn't that something for people in the restaurant industry or people who are studying it professionally?"

"That might be true, but why don't you try getting it? Actually, my cousin loves sake and got the Kikisake-shi certification."

Hearing that, the idea of "getting a Kikisake-shi certification" suddenly became realistic.
"Maybe I'll give it a try."
I replied with that, thanked her, and we parted ways that day.

When I got home and looked up the Kikisake-shi certification, I found out I could still make it in time for this year's exam, so I applied immediately.
Then the notification came, I took the lectures, studied, and took the exam.
The result was a pass, and I obtained the Kikisake-shi certification.
I reported it to her by email.

I was happy that I had obtained it, but days continued to pass with absolutely no connection to work involving writing about sake.
After two or three years, "Kikisake-shi" was just a "talking point" for me.
When talking to someone I met for the first time, I would say, "Actually, I'm a Kikisake-shi." The other person would find it rare and ask me various things. The conversation would liven up. Well, I was content with that.
Besides, it was good that I was able to study sake seriously for the first time in order to take the exam. Until then, I had just been drinking and getting drunk saying "It's delicious~," but by gaining knowledge about sake, I came to like it even more.
I felt that even just that was a plus for me, and getting the certification was by no means a waste.

However, I still wanted to try writing about sake for work.
While I held that feeling without any progress, one day, I received an invitation saying, "Why don't we all go up the Tsutenkaku Tower?"
It was a gathering organized mainly by one person, intended for writers to get together and deepen their friendships.
I like drinking one-on-one, but I have always been bad at gathering with a large group to do something. So, I usually never participate in such gatherings. Yet, for some reason, at that time, I naturally thought, "I can't be shy forever. It might be stimulating, so let's go," and decided to participate.

There were probably seven or eight people who gathered. We all went up the Tsutenkaku Tower, and after that, we drank while eating kushikatsu in Shinsekai.
Since my shyness disappears a little when I have a drink, I was able to chat with everyone and had a reasonably fun time.
I didn't forget to say, "Actually, I'm a Kikisake-shi," at that time too.
One of the male participants, who turned bright red after just one beer, saying "I'm a lightweight when it comes to alcohol," was interested in the Kikisake-shi story, which made me happy.
Well, it was reasonably fun, and I was able to make connections with other writers, so I thought it was good, and the day ended with just that.

Therefore, in the spring of 2013, when I received a message from that man who had turned bright red from drinking, I literally jumped in surprise.
Because his email said this.

"I have been asked by someone to get involved in a project to publish a sake industry magazine. Kaori-san, who is a Kikisake-shi, would you be willing to cooperate as a writer?"

I read it over and over again. I was so excited that it was hard to breathe, and I felt my body getting hot.
I got the Kikisake-shi certification in 2009.
Four years had passed since then, and it finally led to a writing job.

Of course, I immediately replied, "Please let me do it!" and in the summer of 2013, we started with a meeting. In October, I went to Akita for my first sake brewery interview, and in April 2014, the industry magazine "Sakagura Manryu" was launched.

The man who invited me still serves as the desk for this magazine.

Seven years have passed since then, and until recently, it was written by two writers, so it was quite tough (now there are four), but just for this magazine, I have been allowed to interview about 90 breweries nationwide.
I believe this is still my representative work, and it has become one of the "specialized writing" jobs that I worried so much about and wanted so badly.

Even now, I sometimes think about what would have happened if that conversation hadn't taken place...
What if she hadn't said to me at that time, "Why don't you try getting a Kikisake-shi certification?"
What if, at that time, I had been my usual shy self, hadn't participated in the writers' meeting, and hadn't met the desk and told him, "I'm a Kikisake-shi"?
If either of those conversations had been missing, I probably wouldn't have been able to do the job of writing about sake.

When I was thinking about that again, I suddenly remembered something.
It was an email from my best friend who got married and moved to Tochigi.
I think it was probably when I told her that I couldn't do the kind of work I wanted to do and was worried about it.
She had sent me an email with this kind of content.

Lately, so many sparrows have been coming to my garden that I've been feeding them breadcrumbs. Watching them, I've realized that sparrows have all sorts of different personalities.
There are the ones that always come to the front and eat a lot of food. And conversely, the ones that don't come forward at all and can't get anything to eat.
I want to feed them equally, so I try to give some to the ones in the back, but the more aggressive ones end up eating it anyway.
That got me thinking that maybe humans are the same way.
If there is a God, even if God tries to give everyone equal opportunities, if you're in the back, they won't reach you. If you don't come forward yourself, God can't give you those chances either.
I don't know, watching the sparrows just made me think of that.

I remembered that and thought, 'Yeah, that might really be true.'
Maybe God was trying to give me equal opportunities all along. Yet, because I did nothing, I couldn't get the job I wanted.
But I went out for drinks with a woman I met for the first time. I got my sake sommelier certification. I talked about it to all sorts of people. I did my best to attend gatherings I wasn't comfortable with. I made sure to promote myself there, too. That's why the opportunity came to me.

If I hadn't taken those actions or had those conversations, I definitely wouldn't be where I am today.

What always helps me grow is the courage to take that first step.
It's scary, and it takes effort, but if I can move one step further than I did yesterday, a small miracle is sure to happen.
Whenever my shy side starts to emerge, I always remember this to spur myself on.