For most of my adult life, I feel like I’ve always been waiting for that perfect moment to appear, so I can cease it and make it my own. However, the reality is that the perfect moment will never come by on its own. You have to make it for yourself. I know this. This is never new news to me. Yet still, I wait and say to myself “maybe tomorrow will be a better day. Maybe I’ll be struck with a brilliant idea and everything will work out.”
True, maybe I will get struck with a brilliant idea one of these days, but it’s never going to “just work out”.
A little over a month ago, I quit my job and moved from a city I loved so that I could live more affordably and also focus on my writing. I miss the city, for sure, but I don’t miss my crazy work schedule that barely left time for sleep, let alone slogging long hours at a computer screen, or pouring over a notebook in a coffee shop. But I tried. Boy did I try. I would constantly find myself spending hours on my days off tucked in some corner of the library, or trying to stay awake at all hours in the morning, camped in a 24 hour bistro, trying to get some words on paper. I was actually pretty successful, but I quickly realized that the two hours here and the four hours there wasn’t going to cut it in the long term. If I wanted to focus on writing, if I wanted to pursue it fully, I had to commit. So I “retired” from working at the young age of 29, packed up my belongings, and moved in with family so I could chase my dreams.
There’s something very liberating and also very terrifying about leaving a full-time job that pays the bills and trying to become an author. At first, I was very excited to finally go after what I wanted with nothing to hold me back. And then I started to panic. It’s one thing to say you want to do something and then always have the “what-if”, it’s an entirely different thing to pursue it and then be able to have a definitive answer on whether you are good at it, or shouldn’t have quit your day job. I think that’s what’s been holding me back. It’s been over a month since I moved and I’ve barely touched my stories. Sure, it took me a while to settle in, and I did pick up a part-time job for a month (I’m terrible at retirement), but those excuses are starting to wear thin. My new one is “I need a steady routine”. Yes, that may be true, but I’m waiting for it to materialize on its own, which is never going to happen. I need to make my own routine. I need to sit down and set up a schedule and go with it. I need to make writing my job, even if I may not be getting paid for it.
Starting to blog again was part of my plan for more structure. I used to blog daily and, not only did I enjoy it, but it gave me something I had to do every day. I’m a fan of consistency. Not that I’ve been that great here. Baby steps, though, and I think I’m on the right path.
Sometime this week, I think I’ll be able to get things sorted. I am finally starting to feel settled, and that was the thing I was having the biggest issue with. Next step is making that daily schedule and then finding a place that feels right to write in. It’s weird, I know, but I need a certain feel to a place when I’m writing in it.
Step one, though, is go to bed so I don’t sleep in forever tomorrow!