'I bought the whole series!' Barbara

So, today’s the day

Yesterday was a whole other day. It was Writer’s Log, Day Zero. It involved a heap of painful goodbyes I didn’t think I’d survive, much fear for the future I’d finally embraced and moments of great numbness. I’d worked for eleven years with the same employer and carved out a job I adored. I loved the people I worked with and around morning tea time yesterday, began to doubt myself.

Other people give up decent jobs to follow a dream. People with a slightly manic look in their eye who don’t have a Plan B. Other people I’ve jerked my head up and down to in silent acknowledgement of their tremendous risk. Yes, you’re brave. Yes, you’re nuts.

Now I’m the crazy one

My secret life as an author is exposed and I’ve spent the last five weeks bearing a feeling of abject nakedness and having to say those words, ‘Yes, I’m a writer.’ Actually that’s untrue. The first month involved avoiding admitting what foolishness I would be entertaining and pretending I was retiring early at 48. That worked for a while until somebody else rumbled me. Then when a colleague wished me well and said they’d love to know when I published my first book, I ran away with an inane grin on my chops. I’m wracked with guilt because there are 20 published works and 3 more in process. I just found it hard to speak whole sentences at the time and reasoned I might not see that same person again. Or, they might never find out…

I made it through the lovely farewell and the nice things said about me and managed not to cry until I drove onto the main road. I fancied my truck felt sluggish, not wanting other wheels to park in its coveted parking space. As far as the traffic lights we made it, before I bawled and the truck stalled. A fitting epitaph to a great career which I have killed off like an unwanted character.

What not to do

I listened with interest to Joan Dempsey when she talked about her first week as a full-time writer. She says she cleaned her desk, rearranged her office, sorted her paperwork, went online, but couldn’t write. The responsibility froze her in place and her creativity abandoned her for a while. Determined not to follow suit, I got up this morning and just wrote. I am happy to report that before most people’s eyes opened, I had already written a thousand words of usable stuff.

Since then, I’ve made soup, drunk a litre of water, wrapped three Christmas presents and watered up my greenhouse.

What I must do

I intend to create a Writer’s Schedule and stick to it within flexible parameters. I’ve decided that if I don’t respect my work space or the time allocated for writing, nobody else will either. Already I’ve moved something from morning to afternoon in December because although I’m home, the assumption that I’m available is incorrect. I will learn to turn off my phone and not engage in online activities whilst writing. I will be disciplined and organised and productive.

A thousand words and a blog post. See, it’s going great. Now I need to stir the soup…

making Writer's Soup

K T Bowes is the author of a few published works under the Hakarimata Press banner.
She is hoping to add more soon now that she has the time.

You can follow the prompts to join her mailing list or just check out her novels and grab the free ones HERE

 

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