I’m still struggling to get into a routine. How do proper writers do this?

Last week my available working hours were reduced due to recovery time required by my surgery. However, I did send out a short story submission, and submitted three poems to another literary magazine.

Friday I felt most productive. Partially inspired by a dream, I woke up early and wrote. I managed 1100 words before I even thought of coffee. I’m immensely and unreasonably proud of this.

I wrote a little more during coffee (another 400 words), and I’m continuing to work on it and shape it into something proper. So far, I like it.

For the pseudo long weekend myself, my husband and another friend made the trek up north to my parents’ cabin, Wild Wood, in the North Kawarthas Friday night. I thought I’d get more done there, but mostly we read, drank, and generally hung out in the heat. Bit of a swim in the lake.

I had a good time, and came away from it with plenty of mosquito bites, but I didn’t write a word while I was there.

Today’s my birthday. Celebrations won’t be as frivolous as last year, we’re on a smaller budget now, but it’s been a good day. I haven’t yet decided where we’ll be going for dinner, but I’m guessing it will be somewhere Italian.

I’m proud that I’ve committed myself to doing something that I love, but I don’t feel like I’m getting enough done. I’m still learning what it means to be self-employed, still working on what it means to be a grownup, and making it up as I go along.

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I resigned from my position at the bank several weeks ago, Friday was officially my last day. Today was to be my first day getting to work as a properly self-employed person. I’m still working out what that means.

For me, today, it meant calling in sick.

I thought it a smart move to use what benefits I had while I could, and had my wisdom teeth removed on Thursday, which turned out to be a much bigger deal. I don’t know what I expected, but I kinda thought I’d be up and about in a day or so. It seemed so straightforward. Routine surgery, right?

Sure, my dentist proscribed me a small pharmacy’s worth of medication, and I understood that the antibiotics should be continued until complete, but the instructions said I should take the pain medication “if needed”. All things considered I’d felt great the past few days. Pain? Pfft. A trifle.

Turns out the reason I’d been feeling so great is because I’ve been taking Tylenol 3, not because I’ve recovered wonderfully. I’m fine, and things are going as they should, but I’m not better. Yet.

I took my antibiotics in the morning, but didn’t bother with anything else. The pain, by noon, was in fact blinding, and I was forced to take pain medication and have a nap. So, that was a bit of a setback.

I did a little self-editing in the morning and started a review, but it seems I’m going to need more recovery time before I can begin in earnest.

It feels like I’ve been waiting forever for this, but it seems worth waiting a few extra days until I know I can properly function as a human being before berating myself for not GTD.

My first day as my own boss and I had to call in sick. At least I know I wasn’t faking it.

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At the end of May my husband and I went to Paris for two weeks. This is my favourite picture of me from that trip. I really dig the beret, and it didn’t bother me a bit that I was the only person in Paris wearing one.

We’re still working on sorting through the pictures (Drew took over a thousand of them). It’s a beautiful city. I may post a few more here in the coming weeks.

The other big new? I quit my job.

On Friday I handed in my formal resignation from my role as a senior business analyst for a major Canadian bank. I gave them three weeks’ notice, everything should be organized by then.

There were a number of reasons why I quit, but highest among them was that I wasn’t happy.

I’d worked for the company for six and a half years, steadily moving up as the years went on, and while I often enjoyed my time there, it wasn’t what I really wanted to be doing.

It’s finally become financially feasible for me to quit the corporate life and go freelance. No, we didn’t win any lotteries, just got our affairs in order so I can pursue my dream career: writing.

At the moment I don’t have any clients lined up (I know, I must be crazy, right?), this is something I’ll be working on for the next few weeks while I still have a paycheque.

It’s a little scary, but exciting, too. I feel fairly prepared, but at the same time I don’t know what’s in store. I have so much to learn. I’ll blog it as I go.

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Last Tuesday I submitted another short story submitted to an American magazine. Holy cow IRCs are expensive. Four dollars. For the cost of a stamp to mail a letter from America to Canada. Oh. Em. Gee. The entire package ended up costing almost eight bucks. For something that may or may not be picked up.

To my American friends: Pls to be sendink American stamps for postage to Canada. Will send money via PayPal. Contact me. Thx.

I received confirmation of my submission to the poetry contest I entered last week, which is good to hear. Still haven’t heard back on submissions sent in February of this year, but responses from pieces sent late last year are arriving slowly but surely.

Speaking of, an essay of mine submitted last autumn has appeared in the latest issue of the online magazine Rending the Veil, you can find it here. Short but sweet.

In a week I head for Paris via Montreal. Until then, more poetry to edit, and a short story I’m trying to get finished for a contest that closes on the 15th.

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In a recent post on his blog, Mark Charan Newton linked to an essay on writing manuals by Richard Bausch published in the Atlantic, “How to Write in 700 Easy Lessons“.

Bausch deplores them, and justifiably so given his experience with an unnamed how-to publisher and would-be student writers who fail to read. And this is the main thrust of his argument: many people seem to use these guides as ends in themselves rather than studying actual works of literature. It’s a fair point.

That said, I read Stephen King’s On Writing over the weekend, and I rather enjoyed it (even the parts where I groaned, however clichéd,  in horror and disgust). It’s a great read, though my favourite in the literary memoir genre is Pierre Berton’s The Joy of Writing. Prior to reading this I didn’t realize how funny he could be.  Joy is also immensely informative. I pulled it off the shelf again while writing this and have now become sucked into re-reading it, for sheer pleasure.

Both of these books offer insight into how they got started – not just in writing, but in life. Both are filled with lots of practical advice, with examples. And both encourage aspiring writers to read. A lot. Continue reading »

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