#41 Life of a writer

Someone asked me how my life is now that I'm a writer, since I have no fixed schedule, no manager checking my tasks, and no salary at the end of the month. I replied that the main difference is the income uncertainty, or better said, the certainty of having none for quite some time. Surprisingly — or not — I see no difference on the other side, on the work side.

On weekdays, I wake up at six thirty. The grown-ups team takes care of breakfasts and lunches. We wait for the kids as we sip our coffees, ask them about books, gym clothes, or homework they might need that day, remind them about their chores, and argue when they opt to forget them—the usual stuff.

My partner walks the dogs and goes to work, and I take our younger son to school and then return home to start my workday. I prepare one more coffee — a bucket, as my former office colleagues used to say —and open my pink laptop, committed to hitting my daily word target. It's not much different from going to the office, except for the minor detail concerning my wardrobe: I haven't been able to keep using the heels at home. I don't feel the need to dress for anyone but me, and my heels — those I wore the same way superheroes use their capes and underpants —don't impress anyone else anymore. So, there I am, at my desk, with my coffee and wearing fluffy socks and slippers, ready to conquer the blank pages and, some days, missing the meetings with colleagues. That's another difference: I don't usually have meetings. Because I'm currently working on a few projects at different stages, whenever I meet my editor, we discuss either changes to a manuscript or the next business step, which, in fact, is more changes... everything changes from time to time.

Sometimes I feel lonely. Although I chose this life, it doesn't mean every single minute is a marvelous adventure. That's not different from any job, from any life. I try to focus on the good stuff, the laughs and the celebrations, but there are crappy days as well, which at least serve to recognize the good ones. Who said I'm not an optimist? There is a good part even in the terrible moments. Even those teach me something, like how much I can go through without breaking, like discovering my breaking point.

It's good to know I'm not broken. It's awesome to be able to choose a new path.