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Lisa Daniels, NC

Senior Writer

Lisa is a freelance writer and editor with a special interest in writing about art and history. She holds a Master’s degree in Art, Style and Design from Christie’s Education London/University of Glasgow and has worked at Christie’s in New York. Since moving to London from New York seven years ago, she has written for a variety of publications on topics that range from general interest to scholarly research.

As a Story Terrace writer, Lisa interviews customers and turns their life stories into books. Get to know her better by reading her autobiographical anecdote below.

A Step in the Right Direction

‘There must be something more,’ I thought to myself as I rode through the dark tunnel connecting the city to the borough I called home. As a single, 20-something working in New York City, I spent my days with my nose to the grindstone, working hard and trying to get ahead in my career. There was little time for much else. The fast pace of city life and the long hours at work had left me feeling drained and uninspired.

As the Subway began to surface, I came to the realisation that my life needed more than the four walls of my tiny Brooklyn abode and the four walls of my office cubicle. ‘A hobby might do it’, I thought, ‘something to wedge in between work and sleep’. But what? I had no interest in playing a sport, no talent to create art and no patience for baking or cooking. ‘Something that involves meeting people and takes more effort than walking from the lift to my desk twice a day would be a plus’. The breaks squealed as the train pulled into my station and it hit me. ‘I could learn to dance!’ Not the frequently uncoordinated and often embarrassing gyrations that I shied away from in night clubs, but the refined, elegant dancing of ballrooms filled with the sounds of swishing gowns and classical quartets.

As I ascended the last set of stairs leading up to my apartment and crawled into bed, I imagined a future me. The dancefloor clearing as I and my dashing partner twirled effortlessly across the room, finishing in a graceful dip as onlookers gasped with delight.

The journey to work the next morning seemed brighter than usual and over a latte and a muffin I researched dance studios, finding one that was sure to transform me into the next Ginger Rogers. Later that week, I escaped from work before the sun had dropped beneath the horizon and took my first step onto a sprung wooden floor. From the first ‘slow, slow, quick, quick’, I was hooked. Foxtrot, Waltz, Rhumba, Swing… I had to learn them all.

Months passed and my focus shifted. Working late paled in comparison to counting beats and letting the rhythm of the music move my feet across the dancefloor. Life became more balanced and each new dance step learned filled me with a sense of fulfillment that no step up the corporate ladder ever could.

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