At 10 I wanted to be either a soldier or a copper. The soldier thing was due to coming from an army family - my dad, three of my uncles and an aunt were either serving or had served, with both grandfathers having also spent time in uniform as well as 3-4 great-uncles (regulars, not just national service) - but even at that age it came a narrow second to wanting to be a policeman, preferably a detective.
I made it about halfway to being a soldier, signing up with the reserves, but while I applied to become a cop (at 19) I ultimately dropped out of the process due to certain things having happened to certain people that made me question what was the point (crimes going unreported, anti-police sentiments expressed, etc).
Later, at around 13-14, I found that I had an aptitude for 'technical' drawing - I couldn't draw artistically to save my life, or so I thought, but when it came to buildings, vehicles and the like I (apparently) shone - so that led to me considering a career as an architect. In the end, though, the school I went to dropped the exam-level course they'd run and did a deal with the local college. My dad refused to fork out the bus fare, so I ended up doing metalwork and woodwork instead...which it's fair to say I was utterly useless at.
At 15, due to my lifelong interest in history (the older the better), I decided I wanted to be an archaeologist. Again, though, up popped the old man to scupper my plans for staying on post-16 to do the 'A' level exams that would get me to university, so having no talent for or interest in engineering type work and having little interest in computers besides playing games, I finished up doing office admin, eventually sliding sideways into an accounts admin/purchase ledger role.
The thing was, the one thing that I'd done consistently throughout my childhood was write - at 10, I was three-times published; OK, it was only in school magazines, but I still had to have the work selected and it was there in print, so I'm claiming it
- so you might think that that would have provided a bit of a pointer as to where my true talents(?) lay(?), but..nope, not so much. It didn't help that plenty of 'helpful' family members would say things like 'But you have to be
really good to earn money as a writer' or variations of 'Folk like us don't become...'.