If someone asked me what I want to achieve most in my life, my answer would be to be able to make a living from writing. That is of course an ideal. I would be more than happy to make part of my living from writing. Just so long as I had a few days each week where I could sit down at my computer and say, my job today is to write; this is what I’m supposed to be doing.
As it stands, my writing is classed as a hobby, or an indulgence. Bringing up a family and working produces so many demands on my time, that often I feel I can only allow myself the indulgence to write when everything else has been done. And of course everything else is never done!
Of course this is wrong. How am I ever going to achieve my ideal if I don’t occasionally put my writing to the top of the list? I keep telling myself this. I keep telling my family too that I deserve to have an hour or even half an hour a day to myself to do this. And my family do listen – or at least my husband does. That could be down to the fact that he likes to play golf so doesn’t really have a leg to stand on, but he is supportive. My worst enemy is often myself. At least I know I’m inventive, because I’m always inventing excuses not to put my bum on that chair and attach my fingers to the keyboard.
So my plan for an hour a day at least gives me a small sense of satisfaction, even if my ideal is to be able to loose myself in a project rather than having to fit it around everything else in small bursts. Now I just need to stick to it.
As it stands, my writing is classed as a hobby, or an indulgence. Bringing up a family and working produces so many demands on my time, that often I feel I can only allow myself the indulgence to write when everything else has been done. And of course everything else is never done!
Of course this is wrong. How am I ever going to achieve my ideal if I don’t occasionally put my writing to the top of the list? I keep telling myself this. I keep telling my family too that I deserve to have an hour or even half an hour a day to myself to do this. And my family do listen – or at least my husband does. That could be down to the fact that he likes to play golf so doesn’t really have a leg to stand on, but he is supportive. My worst enemy is often myself. At least I know I’m inventive, because I’m always inventing excuses not to put my bum on that chair and attach my fingers to the keyboard.
So my plan for an hour a day at least gives me a small sense of satisfaction, even if my ideal is to be able to loose myself in a project rather than having to fit it around everything else in small bursts. Now I just need to stick to it.
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