…of my dreams. For one week, I was a writer. I could tell people I was a writer. I could talk about stories, and books, and characters, and arcs, and plots, and themes…and not bore people to death (well, maybe I did bore them, I don’t know).
And everyone else was just like me…also living the life of their dreams. But sadly, I didn’t really belong in that life. That was a tantalizing taste, but just a taste nonetheless.
My ‘real’ life involves computers, and e-commerce, and manufacturing…and other stuff not nearly as exciting. My ‘real’ career contains no passion or love.
So I’m depressed. Really depressed. But you know, I guess this is what I needed to re-affirm my goals, my commitment to being ‘a writer’.
Just a taste. Nothing more.
Step up to the buffet, my friend. You can have as much of this as you want. Just carve out the time and do it. (there is time. there’s always time.) You want a quick lesson? Give me a call and I’ll walk you through the Time Management piece in my story. It actually works, if you use it.
By the way, I think I’m cutting that piece. It doesn’t fit with the novel anymore. but that’s OK — it started off as a short story, and gave me the idea for the rest. i may take it back to its roots, and send it out as a short story again. Who knows? We writers are such grand recyclers, if we put our minds to it! Maybe it needed to be in the story so I could give you a quick lesson in time management??? Could be. The universe does line things up.
And if you think you can walk away after THAT week, think again. You’re a writer with a day job. (Actually, a couple. Hey, join the club.) Don’t you ever forget it. We won’t. And the instant you feel the need to talk about story arc, call. I’m always up for a bit of that.