Ah, the best-laid plans… am I right?
I was a fool to think this holiday would be rife with gaming, reading and writing. We just moved into a new home! There are boxes to unpack! Floors to clean! Furniture to buy! A property to sell! The list goes on, and on, and on… and… well, you get the gist of it.
On top of all that I was in no way, shape or form a handyman prior to moving here. In fact, it wasn’t until we bought this place I’d worked with concrete. I’d certainly never used a pickaxe (I foolishly thought shovels had come a long way, I was wrong). What was a drill bit? I’d seen 8, 16, 32 bits… But Sonic and Mario had never taught me how to use a hole saw. In the past week, I’ve donned many a hat; from plumber (no goombas were hurt in my adventure) to carpenter and labourer to janitor. Thank god for YouTube!
I have written a bit, just not as much as I wanted to. Then again, it never is. I had a lofty goal of setting myself into a routine in the new house. New home, new me. I swore it, by the old gods and the new! Ha ha ha! I laugh aloud, well more in hushed tones so I don’t trigger a barking fit from the pups in the laundry below, but alas the feeling is the same. I’ve been a fool! Three weeks, squandered on moving and eating and cleaning and sleeping and all for what?
*SIGH*
I am the very definition of a writer: suffering from extreme anxiety, sorrow, or pain.
Oh no, wait… that’s the definition of distressed. My apologies. I think that may stem from work calling me back early from holidays. Imagine having six days left, suddenly to have it become five with no actual passing of time! I hadn’t travelled to the future! I stared at my phone for what felt like another day, as I was already wasting the day at hand waiting for people to service our windows and quote us for flyscreens.
They need me. I thought. Normally, there’s a good feeling attached to that.
Fast forward to this evening, I’ve been reading an extended family member’s memoir and there’s always this guilty feeling I get when I’m reading. You should be writing. But reading is good too! Who knew even my imaginary friends would end up peer pressuring me? I’m an adult goddamnit! I’ll do what I want! Oddly, in editing through her writing I’ve suddenly become more aware of things I do as well; Punctuation I don’t use enough of, some I use too much of, run on sentences. I was just too close to see.
Not only has editing her work helped but much of her writing is entertaining. I’ve found myself chuckling through more than a few of her experiences and wishing I was living nearby now. Not just because she’s living in one of my favourite countries in the world, but I’d like to discuss writing in person. That being said I could find more people here to write with and discuss our stories, however, there is a lot of poetry focus nearby and as much as I enjoy poetry… I need to discuss my stories with people who are excited by the same thing I am. It helps with the motivation and also keeps the gears turning.
At one in the morning, however, I sit tapping away at my illuminated keys for a blog post as opposed to editing or creating. Why I don’t know, but if I’m ever to be a published author, eventually I will have to knuckle down and give it a fair go, especially with my NaNoWriMo plan slowly progressing. As for now, I should probably sleep before I stop making any sense. I am a writer who dares not to drink coffee, so wish me luck!