For a long time I have been pondering how to earn more money than I currently do and what sort of career path I would like to follow when both children are at school and I yearn for something more than a job with no prospects of promotion or development.
I used to work as a stage manager in theatre but the hours are long and unsocial and I would miss out on time with my family.
I am a qualified secondary school teacher but the prospect of adhering to the whims of Michael Gove fills me with dread. Plus I would always bring my work home with me and spend my evenings and weekends marking and planning.
I am a special constable but do not have any desire to apply to be a full time police officer at the moment. The shift work would also be impractical when it comes to childcare.
I currently work as a support technician in a school but don’t really want to do battle with broken photocopiers and staple guns for the rest of my working life.
One item on my bucket list has lingered for as long as I can remember but I have not done anything towards achieving my pipe dream. I want to write (there, I’ve said it). I want to write something which could be published and continue to be read after I am gone. Write something which stirs the emotions of people I have never met and never will meet. My trouble has been finding inspiration for the ‘something’ to write.
I’m sure that lots if people have the same desire but relatively few people ever achieve successful writer status. I have to be realistic and continue to earn a reliable wage to pay the bills, but I can have ambition regardless. I have no idea how to achieve literary success. I know nothing about the industry. Until a couple of days ago, I had no idea for a story to tell either. But, as I wiped the crud off the kitchen surfaces and swept up fluff-encrusted sausages, an idea began to form… It came from the most unexpected source and I don’t know where it will take me or how it will evolve, but I’m intrigued to find out.
I was mulling over characters in my head this afternoon while Bethan smacked me about the face with a plastic giraffe and Catrin made a family of snails and a xylophone out of Duplo for me. I was enjoying the torrent of thoughts and images forming in my mind when I suddenly noticed that Catrin had moved on from snails and had fashioned an angry mob out of Duplo characters on the carpet. Sadly she was lacking in Duplo burning torches, so had armed her mob with swords, a spade and a garden fork.
Imagination is definitely one of the best things about being human.