5 hours. That’s all I get. Monday – Friday. 5:30 pm – 10:30 pm. That’s my free time.
I don’t know if I’m complaining. That’s a lie. I am complaining.
Part of me wants to feel bad. Some people don’t get that much. Some don’t get any.
But I’m not comparing myself to anyone. I’m not talking about the plight of the working person. I’m talking about me.
I get up at 6:30 am, leave for work at 7, arrive at 8, work till 4:30 pm, get home at 5:30, and go to bed at 10:30.
5 hours. That’s enough, right? That’s an eternity. Lots of stuff can get done in five hours. Five days a week, that’s 25 hours. Not even considering weekends yet.
So why am I not getting any writing done?
The job may have something to do with it. I’m reading all day at work. No, really. About 7.5 hours of nothing but staring at a computer screen and reading. When I get home, the last thing I want to do is be in front of a computer, dealing with words.
I needed a job, and I found one. I’m grateful. I can pay a few bills. My basic needs are met. But meeting basic needs only allows us to survive. I miss living. I live to write. I live to create. This job is sucking the soul out of me.
I shouldn’t complain. Thousands of people would trade with me in a heartbeat. I know that. I’m blessed, I guess. But I’ve seen too many people compromise their dreams for the security of a paycheck. Where is the middle ground? How can I support myself, and yet go after my dream? Where is the job that allows me to pursue my writing? I had that job, but it came with too many other intolerable elements. Besides, it does no good to look back. I’m looking ahead. What’s next? How can I make this work.
As I’ve said, I’m not asking anyone’s permission. But right now, the only person holding me back, is me. I can’t find the motivation. I can’t find the drive. There’s always something else needs done. The lawn needs mowed. Errands need run. Other responsibilities, other demands. How does anybody become a full-time writer? How does anybody navigate this? It’s hard clawing your way from lower-middle class. Always hoping and working for a break. I don’t care about being rich. I care about doing what makes me happy and supporting myself. In that order, if at all possible.
5 hours. What could I do in 5 hours? Start smaller. What could I do in 1 hour a night? Just 1? A lot, probably. But after, and only after, I find that motivation again.