I swear at one point in my life there was a thing about a compass that wouldn't stop spinning. That's how I've been feeling over the past week. I went to a workshop on job searching strategies this morning and I realized I don't need a new career. Writing is my passion. Writing is my career. What I need is a job that ensures I can pay my expenses while I write.
I took a career aptitude test today and it came out with almost only writing careers. How is that for confirmation? Not that I didn't already know it with every fiber of my being. There is an ache in my heart when I think about writing. It's a yearning so deep that is only eased by writing.
Only artistic pursuits engross me so completely that I forget to eat meals. I enter a time warp when playing guitar, when writing, and when painting.
The weekend was spent in the company of good friends, or mostly their toddler. He's rather fond of me. Adorable little tyke. I watched his first ever martial arts test. He wasn't nervous about it. It was just another class to him. There's something to be said for just going and doing what needs to be done.
Today, I returned a library book, cancelled my gym membership to save cash, set up a business blog to talk about my professional writing experience, posted an ad on fiverr for story commissions (which I see needs fixing as it lost the additional options), sent in a form to register for French classes, did a load of laundry, and edited another novel chapter. I also responded to a meeting request that might turn into a job.
I'm staying hopeful mostly. There are those moments where something upsets me and I burst into tears, but I keep moving forward.
It was an exhausting day. I'll fix the ad tomorrow.
Ciao,
R~
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