I have been editing the same short story for a week now. As always, my patience is starting to wear a bit thin and I wished I’d devoted myself to a different art. I’m quite sure all artistic endeavours take just a much polishing bring to completion, but doing a hard job always makes other jobs seem easier and I’m only human. My greatest weakness has been revealed once again, I am terrible at staying glued to my seat and finishing a job. Too frequently I let myself pace around the room indulging in imaginary conversations or checking the fridge when I should be pushing on to the next paragraph, and after an hour I sit and beat myself up because I’ve done half the work I set for myself. The problem is that no matter how much you love doing something, when it becomes part of your daily routine, there’s always something you would enjoy doing more.
And I suppose that’s when it really hit me for the first time; since January I took the most important step in my life, I began living like a full time writer. Sure, there are a few obstacles. My writing does not bring in any money and there’s that awkward weekend job to worry about, but my whole perspective has shifted and the day to day routine of my life has shifted around it. When I wake up in the morning, I grab my breakfast on my way to the chaotic part of the living room I am calling my office. From there I will alternate between working on my latest piece and tweeting and socialising to promote myself as a writer. From the moment I sit in my writer’s chair (the special swivel chair that’s a little too low for comfort and the back doesn’t go up properly,) I approach the business I want to devote the rest of my life to with as much confidence and sincerity as I can manage until Beth comes home from work.
Then I relax, more satisfied than I have ever been after a long day scanning items at the supermarket. I’m not sure when the switch happened, maybe it has been gradual or maybe it happened at the weekend, but writing has become my job, my career and my life. That supermarket thing? That’s just a weekend job to make ends meet and one day, when I don’t need it anymore, I’ll get my weekend back but nothing else will have changed.