On Monday morning I woke up thinking, “I can’t do this.”
I wasn’t referring to writing, or self-publishing, or work later in the day – just life. I felt like I couldn’t do life. Because life is HARD sometimes, and so we should be entitled to days where living goes into the impossible box (or at least, I think so).
Of course, validating my feelings didn’t change a thing (except me), and so I dragged myself out of bed, made a cup of tea, heated up last night’s dinner, and snuggled back into bed with my tablet to do some writing and chat on Twitter. I am so grateful to have an afternoon shift at work.
That’s when I found myself thinking, “I could so do this.”
This has been the first time I’ve truly thought I could write full-time. Not because I thought I’d never make enough moolah to live off (which I have thought, and, of course, is always a possiblity), but because I’ve always held that I’d go stir-crazy if I only wrote for the rest of my life.
I was wrong. I mean, I will keep painting, and working with children (I’d go insane if I couldn’t work with kids in one way or another), but I could be absolutely happy and content with being a full-time writer. The more I do it, the more I enjoy it.
And so, even though I’m in a slump right now (lots of factors at play, but I’m happy to say I am managing them), I also have a whole new drive for my writing career.
And now, with 600 words under my belt for today, it’s time to do some planning. Upwards and onwards!