I am not……. A writer!

So first a little scene setting. I recently found myself a without official employment, and I decided to finally try and write the book I swore was inside me. I have spent too long swanning about going “Oh if I had the time / money I’d write.” So I thought now would be the perfect time to put my money where my mouth is.

I set up my study to write, bought software and extra kit so I could hang out in coffee shops and write, maybe start smoking Gauloise and sporting a beret, even attending open mic nights to read “the latest chapter from my oeuvre”. I may have slightly romanticised the lifestyle. I admit nothing. 

Pretty soon the study became a room of doom. I would find any task to do to avoid writing. I packed up clothes to send to charity, trip trapped up to the supermarket daily for food, attended multiple health appointments. Procrastination wasn’t just my friend, it was my bosom chum. The study was becoming a no go zone and I couldn’t have that. Time to look inwards and all that jazz and figure out why.

*Navel gazing break*

Well it turns out writing is hard. Really hard. If I manage 200 words I consider it a good day. And I don’t even enjoy it any more. It’s no fun. I have given it 4 weeks and what I think is this. I am not a good author. I like writing pithy humorous extracts about mental health, singledom and stuff that happens to me. And I love that a few people read and enjoy it. In the interest of transparency, I also enjoy writing fan fiction, and we will leave that sentence there. I do not enjoy trying to put a book together. My writing is succinct and often has bullet points, a fact that my university lecturers  despaired of. And it is a hobby. One I found fun. 

Here’s the killer blow. The minute I said to myself. “I am not a writer.” I felt a weight lift from me. My study was welcoming once more and I could smile and laugh.

The downside of this is I have to start seeking gainful employment, but even that is better than staring at a blank page. And anyone who has had a competency based interview lately will know what that means.

Note this little blog is over 300 words and wasn’t painful at all. 

No longer a lone wolf

I was going to publish a blog all about introversion, mental health and changes brought about from lockdown. It was nearly ready but will be put on hold as something happened today and I wanna talk about it. It made me realise we’re all going through something having spent close to two years indoors.

Allow me to set the scene....

There is a Vegetarian cafe bar near me. It serves a delicious mezze and a hot apple drink with cinnamon. It was never dog friendly. Recently I saw a review saying that it was now indeed dog friendly. I checked and the review was correct. So not only did I decide to go, I told colleagues that's what i was doing this weekend. Why? To make me do it of course!

So there I was , feeling more awkward than happy, with too many clothes and too many bags in a crowded place full of young hip bods. Saga promptly curled up on her blanket and I immediately realised I didn't have my glasses. Now what was I going to do? No phone action, that was for certain. I peered at the menu before ordering and sitting back down trying to take up as little room as possible. Then the headphones went back on and I tried to listen to The News Quiz, struggling to hear it over the cafe’s ambience.. 

Whilst waiting for my food, I managed to choke on my coke, causing a cough that I was certain resulted in a widening circle of patrons. I also managed to drop various bits of my clothing: hat, scarf etc etc.

Food arrived and was very good. I ate it  as quickly as possible, before getting up to leave. On my way home I decided to see how long I'd been there. 25 minutes. I had managed to arrive, order and drink one pint of coke and eat an entire mezze in 25 minutes.  

As soon as I got home, I washed the make up off, took my bra off and got comfy. And that's when it hit me. If I didn't want to go, why did I? Why would I put myself through that?

Because I don’t want to turn into some feral creature who can’t be seen in society, that’s why! I want to be independent, able to enjoy food, drink and entertainment on my own. So I shall do it again. With glasses. And less bags, coats etc. and I shall have the sweet potato wedges. Because I can. Preferably without choking on a fizzy pop. You may see me in and around dog friendly Manchester, looking uncomfortable and perturbed, with a snoozly pup causing everyone to repeatedly awwww. Come and say hi.