I’m a dreamer. Always have been. But I’m not as much of a doer. It’s only been in recent years that I’ve been more proactive in seeing my dreams become realities.
The writing that was once a passing hobby now dominates my free time (y’know, those rare times when I don’t have work or SCA stuff going on), and it’s growing and blossoming in a big way. I’ve gone from fixating on one project at a time to managing multiple projects simultaneously, and I will have works coming out in multiple publications next year.
This all makes me happy, but is it enough? I mean, I still need my day job to pay the bills. I can’t just walk into the office, declare myself independently wealthy from my writing, and tell them where to go. No, I have to keep at it. Keep trucking. Keep surviving day to day.
Survival, though, is not enough. I want to thrive. Live life instead of merely existing. So what’s a girl to do about it?
Looking for other work is a possibility–provided I can find something that pays as much as I currently make (or more…more would be nice). It’ll be tough, though, and no guarantees that I will like a new job any more than the one I’m at.
I’ve started updating my resume, but I’m still uncertain of the direction I want to take. Not the direction I’m going, sure, but where to next then? That’s the million dollar question, I guess. First I have to narrow down what options are available to me, then narrow those down to ones that I qualify for. Find the positions… apply…sit and wait.
It’s going to be tough. I know I won’t likely get the first job I apply for, or even the second or third. I could go months without hearing so much as a peep. Something’s got to change for the sake of my mental health, that much I know.
While I contemplate and work towards a better day job, I’ll keep on writing. Who knows? Maybe something will happen that I don’t expect. Something new, something exciting, something extraordinary.
I won’t know for sure until I get off my ass and shoot for the stars.