I’m taking a break from work, from commuting, from rising at 6:30am every day. I’m calling time on employment, and venturing out on a limb. I’m taking a chance on the limb that holds the pen, that channels the words from my brain onto pieces of pristine paper. I’m going to write. A book. I’ve started writing one, at the moment it has no structure, no solid plot, no evident storyline but it has a heart, a strong one that demands to beat, demands to live.
Writing is something I want to be great at. I haven’t felt good at something for a long time, turns out that working your arse off is pretty depressing and I started to lose sight of myself as I looked more and more like a number; a cog in a machine.
I don’t want to trudge to work every day, my entire commute chewing the inside of my cheek raw and preempting what could possibly have gone wrong whilst I’ve been at home eating dinner, showering and sleeping.
I’m finished with beating myself up and feeling edgy. Tired of explosive and time-consuming emails, tired of unnecessary drama, tired of pussy footing around authors and staff and running myself into the ground. I’m through with hierarchy and power and the quest for more of it. I’m tired of heavy feet walking all over me and plans changing every five minutes. Literally every five minutes.
So from the 2nd July until the 30th September, I’ll be spending some time writing and finding out what exactly I want from my life. I’m having a gap-summer, whilst I’m young and the sun is shining. If anyone needs me I’ll be outside, coming up with a band name.