So, I felt like I’d worked some stuff out, like I was determined and at peace with myself and really trying for this writing thing. With a few carefully chosen words this lunchtime Dad brought me down. Not crashing, not sobbing, we’re just talking a facebook status change.
I know that Dad is worried about the writing thing, his wonderfully feminist daughter is living off her boyfriend instead of having the teaching career that he got to be proud of. On the other hand, this is my dream career (if I can just make it one) and I’m taking it seriously as such, because if I don’t then I am faced with the truly terrifying prospect that I have scuppered my job prospects almost completely.
The teaching career is off with the fairies but I prefer tutoring anyway, graduate training schemes are all by the by now because I graduated four years ago and I’m past it (or fast approaching past it) for any serious efforts in porn. Thats all the career options I’ve considered as ways to provide me with cash for writing gone. On the otherhand if I prove to my own satisfaction that I can’t write in any meaningful and paying way then I don’t really have anything that I do want to do. I honestly think the notion of having no vague aim whatsoever is most scary at the moment.
But right now I do have an aim, and sure, Dad isn’t taking it seriously but I damn well am.
I’ve just got to keep at it and not let this weekend convince me it isn’t going to work…but I shall be living in a tent, so that should keep me believeing in myself if nothing else.