I have been trying to make a go of writing for the last 2 years and I can't really say that I have achieved very much at all. Yes, it has been hard to find the time with a toddler and a nearly full time job, but to be honest I think these have just been excuses. I've always had the niggle at the back of my mind of 1) is my heart really in this? and 2) am I any good anyway?
Well over the last couple of weeks I think I've finally come up with some answers. Writing has always been the thing that gets pushed aside for other things. It was forgotten while I did my science degree, neglected when I had my daughter, and now I've been considering training to teach I can feel that once again writing will go on the back burner.
What I have failed to realise to myself though, is that this is not what I really want to do. My science job is ok, for the moment. In fact it's brilliant for allowing me time during my working day to explore and make notes for writing projects. And that is really want I want to do. Writing. Lots of it. It's what keeps me sane, knowing I can retreat into my own little worlds.
So my epiphany moment is that I have finally admitted to myself, out loud, that writing is what I want to do. Not science, not teaching. Writing. I'm not sure why I even chose science over English in the first place. I was certainly much better at English, the decision puzzles me even to this day.
You know what they say though, it's never too late. This is one decision I can rectify, even if it does take another ten years to do it!
Until next time,