What am I waiting for?

It’s been way too long since my last blog. I’ve got to get back on track with my writing. Part of the problem is my “new” schedule. But it’s actually not that new. It started more than a year ago, but it has changed my personal life more than I like. But actually, that’s another excuse too.

I have to be at work at 4 a.m. so that means I have to go to bed about the same time my family is just starting to wind down from the day. I don’t feel like I get to spend enough quality time with them so I usually spend my weekend hours with them as much as possible.

But that’s just another excuse too.

I liked starting my job because at the time I was already awake at 4 a.m. tossing and turning and trying to figure out how to pay my bills. So, you’d think a new job and schedule would solve my problems and I’d really be able to give more of my time to my writing.

But it didn’t.

I came up with more excuses and got further away from my own writing. And now I can see a big part of me slipping away—actually, it’s probably a lot further way than I want to believe.

I’m talking about the part of me that is creative—the part of me that uses my talents so I can feel like I am a writer and that I am doing what I was intended to do. Focusing on those weekly blogs that brought me closer to others who could relate to the truth about myself that was slowly starting to unfold as I found the courage to write more and be honest with others.

I think making excuses and allowing our true potential to slip away happens to a lot of us. And I don’t think you have to have kids or a spouse to have that happen. I think it’s hard for anyone to really stay focused on the prize and keep moving in the right direction without finding distractions with life.

But this week, I looked around and realized I’m not anywhere close to where I want to be in life. And I’m not talking about my personal life—I’m talking about the whole reason I decided to become a writer.

I don’t necessarily want another daily job to pay the bills, I just don’t want to do “this” for the rest of my life. And by this, I mean what I’ve been doing every week for the past year and I half. I punch the clock and walk out and then I usually meet someone for an interview for my freelance work—that’s something I actually still enjoy doing and it makes me feel like I’m still a writer of sorts.

But on days when I don’t have freelance work, I usually go to the gym before picking up the children from school and then it’s either home to make dinner and help with homework or take someone to an  appointment and drive and pick them up and then to bed and then the next day it’s the same thing… over and over and over. It’s not bad—it’s just not where I want to be in life.

About a year ago, I had coffee with a friend who was doing something similar to me in his career. And he said he realized as he was driving to another assignment for work, that he absolutely was not living the “career” life he wanted to live. And right there at that moment, he decided to change the course of his career and just go for it.

Things like that don’t happen overnight, obviously. But things like that never happen if you don’t do something to change.

I’ve looked around at other job options, but I realized this week, it doesn’t matter what job I have and my schedule—what matters is the only job I really want to have is to be a writer and to know that’s what I do for a living and right now, that’s not what I’m doing. And if I continue to ignore my blog and my work on my book, I’m never, ever going to live that life—ever. And that’s not OK with me.

Why go through everything I’ve been through only to come out and say, yeah, I’m working on my book…I just haven’t finished it yet. But I’m going to…

I’m going to.

Am I?

I had the chance to meet Stephen King several years ago and hear him talk about writing. And he gave me some of the best advice I’ve ever been given—if you want to be a writer, then just fucking write. Don’t overthink it. Don’t waste time worrying about it—just fucking write.

It seems simple enough, so why am I putting it off? What am I waiting for? Seriously, what am I waiting for?

A lot of people have bucket lists. I don’t have one. Sure, there are places I wouldn’t mind traveling to or adventures I could take, but I’m very satisfied with the life I’ve already lived and the places I’ve been. 

But there will always be something nagging at me if I don’t get back to writing on a serious level. I’ll have to live the rest of my life always saying, I’m going to… I’m going to…I’m going to… and well, that just isn’t good enough for me anymore.