Sunday, 29 January 2017

Where did 31 go?

I have a month left of 31, and then I move on to 32.

I feel so behind.

Everyone is moving on in life - exciting careers (or steady ones, at least), marriage, children; they all seem to have adulting down pat. I know that half of that is an illusion - no one could possibly have it together all of the time and everyone is probably fumbling as much as me, but from the outside, it doesn't look that way.

I'm pretty lucky - my partner is super responsible with money, has a good job, and it's because of him we bought a house. All I brought to the table was a family of willing helpers with good know-how and big hearts, and a cushy enough tax return that it covered most of the big furniture expenses. I have spent so much of my life spending my money on travel, seemingly frivolous things (sometimes they've turned out to be quite good purchases, sometimes not...and sometimes they've taken a while to actually prove their worth), and suddenly I got to 30 and the job I had envisioned staying in for years disappeared. The entire company got shut down and we were all made redundant. It was as close to a dream job as I could have hoped - in a bookstore, closed on weekends and over Christmas,  on a uni campus. I genuinely couldn't dream of anything better.

I thought I might have had a chance at getting back into that world recently, when Dymocks was looking to hire. The ad was up for 2 days and I was lucky enough to see it, let alone even get an interview. I was so sure I would be a shoe in because the systems they use are the same as what I had been used to and they called me in on the one day off I had to have said interview. It seemed like it was all falling into place. I walked away feeling confident.

Someone else was better suited for the role. That's what I got told when I was rejected. Nicely, but still rejected.

Don't get me wrong, I have been employed ever since I got made redundant; I just really dislike my current job. Hate wouldn't be too strong a word for what I feel some days. Which was such a shock to realise because it was a career I had dreamt about before I found the job I did love.

The point is, I had thought that by now I would be able to start thinking about having kids (even though I'm not entirely certain I'm prepared for that level of sharing my life), because maternity leave would have been a given. It is not. I want to leave my current job, and it will be soon. But I have been looking for a new position since I started. And I'm not sure it's fair to get pregnant without having that sort of security. So there's that back foot I feel like I'm on.

But also, so many people in my circle of friends have had children in their twenties. I am going to be the older mum who has them in her thirties. That is slightly disconcerting. We just got a pup and after two weeks of ownership - waking up in the middle of the night to take him outside for the toilet, cleaning up the mess, constantly watching him to make sure he's behaving, taking him for training sessions, listening to him whine and not reacting until he self settles....how the hell will older-me have the energy for that, when current-me is in struggletown? The terror is real. And pups are far less trouble than a child will be.

The other thing that has me scared and nervy and stressed - my book. I had lofty dreams of finishing it at 21, 23, 25, 27, 30....if only a Masters of Procrastination was available in life, I would have achieved that thrice over by now. But it's not even close to being done. If I have a child, the time to finish it will be even more reduced. I won't have time for me.

So to summarise. I feel like I've wasted a lot of my life trying to find the right job, the right amount of money to live on, and the time to write. What will 32 teach me, if this is what reflection at 31 is offering up? o.O

p.s. I don't regret the majority of my decisions in terms of jobs and travel, this was basically just a running commentary on my thoughts these past few weeks.

Sunday, 15 January 2017

Yeah, no.

So it's been two weeks, this is my second post, and how did I go with my writing challenge of 'one sentence a day'?

ABSOLUTELY TERRIBLY.

Yep. Not gonna lie. Not gonna make excuses. It was shocking. I think I wrote on two of the days. Maybe about five sentences total. Goddamn. This job I am in currently makes it so hard to commit more time to sitting at a desk to write -  I spend over 9 hours a day at my desk for work, so to come home and do the same, even for five minutes, can be a struggle. Clearly.

One thing I will say though is that it never left my mind. I have been thinking about it this entire time, about where I want to go next and what I want to do. Not as clearly and ready to write down as I might like, but at least I haven't let it slip from my mind completely.

Also, we got our puppy today. So I feel my time, what little I had left after work, is going to be hard fought to dedicate to writing.....though it is my partner's dog, so he's going to wear a lot of the responsibility. I say that, but it will be fair - I hate when things aren't fair!

But there's the update. Life is short, I am still writing, but not at the rate that will see this bloody book finished in the near future (maybe not even this calendar year, if I can't figure out how to light the fire under my butt).

Tune in next fortnight for the next update. Anyone else having these same issues? I'd love to hear if you have any suggestions to help with the procrastination/sitting down issues.

Monday, 2 January 2017

Get set, go?

I have put this off for too long.

All my life, the one thing I wanted to be is a writer. I've heard the advice given by writers - write and you're a writer. Don't worry about being published because that shouldn't validate you. Make sure you do some writing every day.

And for over ten years. I've made excuses: I don't have time. I'm not good enough yet. I need to plan my backstory before I can work on the front story (ahhhhh wit >.>)

I have at least managed to write every day (to do lists count, right?), but I don't feel my journals are enough to increase my skill. They are lazy, full of slang, and sound how I talk. Which can be hilarious and cringe-worthy to read over, but only for myself. I don't think they'd go so well being read by others. Being good enough is as much about practice as it is believing in yourself - to a certain extent. And as for planning - well, surely I can do both planning and writing simultaneously? More importantly, isn't that what editing is for? Just write, damnit!

So it's time for some change. Ten minutes a day will be put aside to write a single sentence on my novel. It doesn't sound like much, but I've struggled with this before. What will I do differently this year?
... I honestly don't know. But I think that's why I'm starting this. I'm making myself accountable because I'm putting this blog out there. So that you (whoever you are), can know what I'm doing and I can feel more responsible. Mebe....it's at least worth a shot!

So I'll update this once a fortnight. Maybe more, but no promises.

Thanks for tuning in :)