Yesterday a fabulous job carrot was dangled in front of me. A serious role at a large design company. I was recommended by someone who I used to work with at another agency. A nice thing to hear. But big responsibility. Big team. Big goals. Part of me misses that world, and provided there are no egotistical, creepy sociopaths in the building, I would like being a part of it again. To be honest, I have not stopped working since I left the last job, and am constantly reminded that there are lovely places and people to see. The last place I worked at had the nicest people I’ve ever worked with and an incredible culture that can’t be manufactured.
But the uncertainty of contract work isn’t good for my mental health. I need some stability.
Then I wonder, will I write again if I take a full-time role as a General Manager? Should I even write anymore?
My last book didn’t sell because my publisher didn’t care. They threw it against the wall, and as it slid down, they shrugged and left me to watch 12 months of my life’s work waste away.
My TV show has been dropped since Ch 10 has gone to into administration, and to be honest, my ideas are slowing down.
It’s hard to have creative ideas when you’re not feeling supported or that the hard process is worth it, because you have to feed your family and pay your bills and ideas don’t always do that.
Once my agent said to me that tenacity was the key to success in publishing. But how long should I be tenacious for?
I send reminders to my agent about things that are out there in other people’s hands but no one really cares. She’s too busy, I’m too needy. My TV show was optioned with the producers for three years before they dropped it. So many things that nearly made it, and so many disappointments.
Perhaps it was all a dream anyway?
I don’t know if I will write books again. I don’t know if I will look seriously at this job. I just know that sometimes it’s okay to say that it’s tough and you’re disillusioned and that writing is speculation and that jobs with big money require big hours, and that you aren’t sure you can do that again, and you have no idea what to make for dinner and you wish it was sunny and your husband was happy and you knew what the hell you should do next.