The Final Countdown

It's Sunday. Do you know that that means? That means that tomorrow is Monday, and Monday ends my so-called vacation.

This depresses me for a number of reasons. One, because it's work, and who hasn't been depressed about returning to work at the end of the weekend at some point or another? Two, because I did not work on Bleed at all this week, as my last post said I intended to do. But I did start a new story, under rather trying circumstances. I'm writing it by hand, which is something I haven't done since I was in grade school. It's a change, but not a bad one. I was able to take my notebook to the duck pond and to a restaurant after and just scribble away while I ate my onion rings. It was lovely. But I wish I could do more of it.

A week away from work has brought a few things to light; the most important being that I think I'm in the wrong profession. I know that the vast majority of writers need a day job, but at the moment, I have a day job which prevents me from writing most of the time. There is the precious spare moment when things are quiet enough for me to write through lunch, but not usually. And by the time I get home, I'm exhausted. The weekend is spent doing everything I couldn't fit in after my late hours at the office, so I seldom accomplish anything literary then.

Unfortunately, I live in the real world, where up and quitting your job with no replacement to become, quite literally, a starving artist, isn't the greatest idea. I wouldn't say that it's not an option, but it's certainly not a good idea.

On the other hand, it's a perfect idea. I can see myself with my notebook tucked into the corner of a coffee shop, writing away. And I suppose that any level-headed person could reason that I can do that now. That I need more discipline. That I need to be more determined. But it's difficult to force creativity when you feel like your job is sucking you dry.

I know I'm not the only person to feel this. I know that it's fairly common for people to feel "burned out" by their everyday life. But I'm in a position to change that. It might not be the smart thing to do, but I can do it. Maybe I'll be happier. Maybe I'll be miserable. Maybe I'll never accomplish anything or never get back into the administrative world again.

But I might just be willing to take that risk.


-Liz