And the dole cheque goes to.....

Three weeks ago I quit my job with nothing to go to. It was a new job (I’d been there for a month) and though it had a shiny and swish job title and decent salary it made me want to give myself a rusty spoon lobotomy.

At first I thought it would be great. It was much easier than I could have imagined and I’d have lots of energy to write in my spare time; but after another day of the kind of boredom that makes your ears bleed, I knew I had to get out. I’d sit down to write, after a day of administration and cutting and pasting from one doc to another, and my mind would be deathly silent. No words, no stories, no music, no pictures – just the desire to fall asleep in front of the telly.

So three weeks later here I am, unemployed, with a whole seven days to write ahead of me. I know that soon I’ll find a new job and that I will look back and wished that I’d utilised every moment of the time when I could be “a full time writer” for however long. I’m thinking of it like a test to see how much I could get done if the mythical ever happened and I had the opportunity to do what I love every minute of the day….so, 5 stories by lunchtime then??

Journal Comments

  • Philip  Rogan
  • Beatnikgal