Blog Post No. 544
I’m not going to claim that after a week and one writing session that I’m back on track with my writing and editing. That’s going to be a long, slow process, especially as I have to figure out what the new job means for my writing schedule. Chances are I’m going to be doing some solo evening writing in order to keep up any reasonable schedule (and progress). I feel like I’ve taken the first step in that area, though. Now, there’s another aspect of my life that needs some attention and, if successfully added to my routine, should help just about everything.
I’m now a couple of weeks into the new position at the Day Job and while I still feel like my hair is about to fall out (due to stress) I am starting to settle into a more consistent routine with my days off. One of the benefits of the new job was supposed to be the consistent schedule, though for the first two weeks, I had made some concessions in consideration of the new employees who had a rushed training. Now, ideally, I’ll get back to some consistency (my precious routine) and with any luck, that means getting back to at least a little bit of writing.
I’ve been working the New Day Job for just over a week, now and I think I finally get what people are on about when they say they struggle to keep work time and non-work time separate. I’ve read articles or heard anecdotal accounts over the years about separating work from home and how to disconnect from the office. In the time of work-from-home there are even more that describe the methods people use to stop working when their day is technically over but they’re still at the “office” since in some cases it’s the same place where they live.
I’ve always had a poor sense of my own feelings and emotions in general. I’m starting my post off this way in an attempt to explain why, when I experience something, I never know if it’s universal or not. Usually, it is, like the feeling of a shower at the end of a long day or that sensation of being in the groove (for me when I’m writing). One feeling I’m sure most people have, is the dread that can settle in the evening (especially right before bed) when you’re stressed or feeling overwhelmed about something. Hopefully, the more upbeat sense that things aren’t so insurmountable that comes in the morning (usually aided by being too busy to worry so much because you have to get to work on time) is also something most people feel.
I had to be at the day job early on Sunday. (It was stupidly early). I had been dreading it for weeks as among the rest of the hectic schedule we’d been facing (the day job and myself personally) the very early shift was a beacon of impending exhaustion (for the really incredibly early start and the busyness of the event itself). The funny thing is that I’ve been struggling with where to go in the novella I’m currently writing, and it was while I was getting dressed in the (rather spectacularly early) morning that I was struck with a bolt of inspiration.
I was going to title this week’s post A Room of One’s Own, then I looked up the title in Wikipedia. I knew it was the name of an essay by Virginia Wolf, and I knew it had something to do with needing a space (and money) in order to write, what I forgot was that she was taking about the specific issues women faced when writing fiction and I really didn’t want to co-opt that (even as a silly tittle for a dumb blog post). As I’m sure you’ve guessed by now, this post will deal with the basic idea of needing space, physically and mentally, in order to write. (There are plenty of great women writers that you should check out for more on their personal struggles like Brittni Brinn, Elly Blake, and Vanessa Shields, among many others). 
Something happened at the end of February that lasted until about a week ago. I don’t want to say it’s unexplainable because I’m sure there is an explanation, just not one I’m capable or willing to explore. During those three weeks I had a huge increase in views and visitors to this website. In one week I got more views than I usually do in some months. Most of those folks were American and most of them here came from Facebook. It was as if I paid for one of those Facebook ads, but as far as I know, I didn’t.
As you can read in the title, my epic run is over. Thankfully (as far as I know from home testing) I haven’t gotten the dreaded COVID, but late last week, I succumbed to the common cold. Having not been sick for so long (I have to admit) I was a bit of a baby about it. Thankfully, I had a rare weekend off, so I was able to do what had to be done to kick the butt of any cold or flu. Nothing.
At the end of the 2000s, I spent some time in another city for school. The city in question is a bit larger than the one I’m from, but it’s also fairly close. It takes less than two hours to get there on the highway. Personally, I like to take the back roads, which makes the trip a little closer to three hours. I did that drive a good dozen times that year, driving past small towns with a couple of stop signs (or sometimes the highway went right through them). Since the drive was leisurely and my mind wanders, I liked to imagine what my life would be like if I moved to one of those towns.
Ben Van Dongen 