A job–(ish)

I’ve been on a blogging hiatus of late. (Quite. Sounds a wee bit familiar, no?) Indeed, for a writer it would appear I don’t write much. Well, I am happy to report there is something behind my absence, and whilst it is not a book deal, it’s nonetheless something to get my name out there. Yes people, I have finally found some work. Paid work, no less. Truthfully the monetary compensation pales in comparison to the sight of my own byline. (No, really. It does.) But what it does serve is to quash that persistent, nagging doubt squirrelled away in the back of my mind that I’m a fraud in literary clothing. See, I never tell anyone I’m a writer. Like the proverbial tree in the forest, if it falls and nobody is there to hear it, does it make a sound? If a writer is unpublished and thus un-read, can they genuinely classify themselves as a writer? (I’m not entirely convinced this is the right metaphor, but sounds lofty so I’m going to go with it.) Well? The doubter in me is dubious.

Anyway, it’s all still very new and strange to me and frankly I’m waiting for someone to out me. But with even the tiniest sliver of my prose in print it nicely takes a bit of the sting out of the string of rejections I’ve received (those being who have bothered to respond in any capacity, at least). In the words of the cringe-worthy Sally Field, “You (or at least someone does) like me!” My self-indulgent need for validation is satisfied… a bit. But as a consequence of this new found work, I’ve inadvertently abandoned any and all other writing endeavours. Even the book has been gathering cyber-dust in my hard drive. It’s been easier to ignore it and justifiably so for something more immediate, a more instant gratification and sense of accomplishment that working on my lengthy opus lacks. Not to mention, too, it seems as I age my ability to multi-task is slowly but steadily degenerating. This though, is not great. One look at the “Last modified’ column of my draft and a gnawing anxiety creeps into gut, my inner monologue shouts– “MUST WRITE”. Indeed, lest I lose sight of the entire enterprise altogether.

So in lieu of editing the book, here’s a token shout-out to all my ones of readers to say I’m still here (and conveniently quell that other guilt of neglecting the book).

Oh, and those yearning for more of my witty repertoire, (cue shameless plug)– pick up a copy of Village magazine, THE south London lifestyle magazine for those in the know (or want to be).


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