Friday, September 19, 2014

One Month On

Today is the one-month anniversary of my unemployment. I'm acknowledging the day by sulking and refusing to get out of bed. It's just gone 3pm, for the record.

A couple of weeks ago, I was all Tra la la la, this is such an adventure, this is going to be so much, talk about funemployment, tra la la la! but today, I feel defeated. Looking for work is demoralising. The constant cycle of applying for jobs and being rejected, either by a thanks-but-no-thanks email or just deafening silence, is wearing me down.

I've had interviews and not heard back. I've met people face-to-face, had a conversation, looked them in the eye, and they haven't bothered to let me know the outcome. I've sent follow-up emails and not had a reply. I've left friendly voicemail messages and not had a return phone call. Not all for the same potential employer, mind; that would mean I was a bit mental. No, this is across the board. It's rapid fire rejection. Pow pow pow!

So I'm taking today to sulk and wallow. Come Monday, my armour will be a little tougher, my skin a little thicker. I'll pull myself together and keep going because what other choice do I have?

Monday, September 8, 2014

An Accidental Novel


I think I accidentally wrote a novel.

Well, no. I did.

I had an idea and after I just couldn't stop thinking about it, I bought this tiny little notebook and thought if I scribbled every single thing I was thinking that the idea would burn out. But it didn't. Instead, I pulled out the laptop and started typing. My preferred method is usually to write by hand but there is no way my penmanship could keep up. I had to type. So I kept typing. I started in May and at the end of August, I had almost 120,000 words.

It was fun. I couldn't stop thinking about my characters. They invaded my every waking moment. I carried the pink notebook around with me everywhere and wrote down every idea. Any thought that crossed my mind. I would panic if I couldn't find it. 

But as I panicked, I would tell myself that it wasn't important, it was all just for fun. This wasn't to be talked about with anyone. This was very silly. This was actually pretty embarrassing. But then my computer froze. It unfroze for a while but then kept freezing. I completely lost my shit that the whole thing could be lost. I managed to save a copy to a USB before the computer set itself on fire and died until it was dead. 

That's when I realised that my silly little manuscript meant a quite great deal to me and now I have a first draft.

Holy shitballs, I did it. I have a first draft. In a couple of months, I'm going to start a second draft edit. But just because I want to see if I can do it. I still feel like this is all a bit of nonsense but there is a small, tiny part of me that is championing this silly accidental novel.