It’s been a while.
I went from writing 2,000 words a day in early June, to practically nothing. My excuse is sound. Work. After almost seven months of unemployment, I landed what could be my dream job. (It’s still early, so let’s not get crazy.) And I received my first paycheck and can once again sleep.
As with anything new, there is a transition period. I’m in it. I’m putting in extra time in the office, traveling, and most pertinent –when I’m not working, I’m thinking about work.
When I sat down with my coffee this morning, I realized I could get to work early again, or I could give myself 30 minutes of me-time. And then I wasted 10 minutes wondering what to do with it. I considered posting another chapter on Wattpad (those are already written), scrolling around Instagram, or checking out Facebook, but then decided, I really, really, really wanted to write. Which meant I couldn’t just pull out my excel spreadsheet and keep fiddling with the plot timeline on my Draft Zero from June. I wanted to put some real words on paper.
Blogging seemed to be a good way to meet that goal. But perhaps I should call this “journaling” instead.
Which brings me to what I believe is the point of this blog (you can tell me if I’m wrong). Writing comes in all shapes and sizes, just like people. And even if you are not a great 21st Century novelist, a prize-winning romance writer, or a hard-hitting journalist, that doesn’t mean you’re not a writer. Even if your day job requires a completely separate skill set (as mine does).
Until people are willing to pay for what I produce, my career is not as a writer. But I do write. I care about the words and tone I put in my emails, I cherish the month every year when I write a letter to my kids every single day, I create and edit and self-publish stories, and sometimes, I just like opening a blank page and seeing what comes out.
And it only took 23 minutes…