Today I decided to count the hours I spent working on my career, writer.
I broke the time down like this.: Got up at 6.40 a.m. Have coffee, cigarette and talk with Becca about all manner of things. Today it was ancient civilizations.
Facebook always begins my day, then it is writing with my playlist on loud and I’m off in writing land. I break for lunch, usually, I make it. Then we have to have a nap in afternoon, meds, fibro, chronic fatigue.
Wake up, do blogs.
It’s now 7 p.m. and I haven’t got everything done I wanted to but I have to call a halt somewhere and spend quality time with Becca and Dante, the dog. So all in all I reckon I spend around 6 and half hours working. Unpaid working. But: I do this because I love my career choice, for the first time in my life.
I originally wanted to be a makeup artist for film and theatre but flunked the hairdressing apprenticeship of a week. I am dyspraxic so, clumsiness has always been a part of my life. I just remember the boss lady walking in when I was trying to rescue one of the shower heads which had been allowed to escape by me and was now doing a snake dance around the floor. The customers thought it was hilarious, those who weren’t soaked that was. End of dream one. Then came college for the first time and office practice. Luckily I’m a good typist so that bit was easy. We did shorthand which was great for me and my mate to send cryptic letters to one another.
My first job was working for a surveyor’s office. That ended when I’d left the punk fanzine I was photocopying for a mate in the copier.
So you can see where this is going. I’ve never really fitted in with the 9-5 crowd and my dyspraxia tends to mess with time anyway.
Now I can’t work due to disabilities I finally have the chance to work in a career that I love.
Fancy a haircut anyone?