Ok, it’s time I ‘fessed up. I’m in a pickle.
I’ve walked so far down this road to being a writer that it feels like too far to turn around and do something else. I know that I haven’t come far at all in terms of fame or fortune, or publishing, but I have come a certain distance in terms of what I’ve given up to get here. Well, I’ve come to Townsville for starters. It feels a bit like the wilderness, to me. It feels a bit like it’s the end of the road. It doesn’t seem like I can just sidestep into some other kind of proper job, like I always thought I could when I lived in Melbourne. I used to think that I could always change my mind and become something else, but now I think that writing might be it, as far as opportunities go in Townsville. But try as I might I can’t get going again, with the writing. I’m stuck.
And I’d like to ask you for your help.
I’m trying to remember what it was that made me want to write in the first place. Not what it was that made me want to string some sentences together, but what it was that made me want to turn it into some kind of career. I’m trying to remember what it was that made me say “Writer!” instead of “Teacher!” or “Librarian!” or “Mathematician!” (OK, we all know why I didn’t turn out to be a mathematician).
Please, can tell me, as anonymously as you like, what was it that you always wanted to do? Or what you'd do if you had three or four other lives to live, as well as this one?
What was it that made you choose what it is that you're doing today?
Thanks for your help. I appreciate it.