I sit at my desk, iPod on the never ending shuffle and try to decide what to write for this DIY MFA prompt. How do I honor my reality when I am still trying to find it? How do I write a post like this without sounding like a whiney teenager? (#Firstworldproblems)
How do I honor my reality when I'm still trying to find out what my reality is?
Two weeks ago I was a receptionist, a psychometrist, a consultant, a student, a mother, a wife, an artist, and a writer. I am still most of those things but I had to let something go. I went to my boss telling her we needed to replace me. The front desk needed someone who could be there more than 10 hours a week. It wasn’t fair to the office and it would free me some time to study and make sure I kept my gpa up for my final year.
Well Monday that day came and I cleaned out my desk. I am no longer a receptionist and if every thing goes as planned that is a role I won’t fall back into again. For 11 years of my life I have worked in medical offices. I got to know the patients, listen to their stories, and help them how ever I could. I don’t do that any longer.
Admittedly, this was my choice. I can study in the mornings before classes, I have time to write while the kids are at school. I can spend my senior year keeping up and not forgetting what my friends and family look like. I can keep my grades up and get into a good master’s program. Being a therapist will allow me to help people in ways I couldn’t as a receptionist.
So why the hell am I so sad? I chose this, I wanted this, and this is 100% the path I am passionate about. Being a therapist is the road I have been on all my life. Just like telling stories has always been a part of me. Now that I have the opportunity to do the 2 things I love the most, shouldn’t I be ecstatic? Shouldn’t I be over the moon and typing my heart and soul into the story I’ve been playing with?
For now, I can not honor my reality. I have to forge a new one again.
I didn’t make my Camp NaNoWriMo Month goal but I did pretty well if I do say so myself. I am now playing with the idea of making the story a novella instead of a full-length novel. I have ideas but I just don’t feel like Inara and Mark have a novel in them yet. Time will tell.
I have joined a few writing groups lately. Hopefully, that will give me some writing friends and some accountability to make things move a little faster. Life is crazy but writing is one of my end goals so I just have to figure out how to make it work. I gots this!
One of my groups has an accountability spreadsheet that we should fill out daily. I’m more concerned about remembering to do that than actually writing. I’ve committed to 20 hours this month. That’s a little less than an hour a day. I should be able to do that on my lunch break or even in chunks during the weekend. I just have to remember, writing is like yoga for my mind. I have never left a yoga class regretting how I feel when I leave and I have never sat down to write and regretted having written. In fact, both activities make me feel better.
Writing is like yoga for my mind, I have never regretted doing either. I always feel better when I'm done.
In one of my other groups, there was an entire thread about getting new notebooks. Yall, I’ve found my people. Like the picture says, happiness is a blank notebook. The possibilities are endless there. Those blank pages can become anything, all I need is a good pen and some good music. Soon words fill the pages and no matter if it’s just a grocery list, those words, once written, become real.
This month may be a scheduling nightmare, I may spend the next year running in a thousand directions but I want to have a story finished by Christmas. I want to be working on the final draft come new years so that I can begin with the next story because I am loving the world I have made up inside my head and I can’t wait to share it with everyone. Finding these groups may be the life saver I need when things get overwhelming and I want to curl up and read a good book. They offer a link to encouragement, friendship, ideas, and advice. All invaluable in their own way.