Perhaps true genius lies at the bottom of a tired, Netflix saturated brain. More realistically, perhaps I'm just trying to cheat myself into thinking that I'm being productive by finding an ever more complicated way of procrastination.
They say that writers should always write. Well, the land of my creative brain has been experiencing a prolonged period of drought. I haven't written more than a few hundred words of original fiction for what seems like years. It feels like I'm waiting for there to be a 'right time' when in reality no such time exists.
I wanted some way to document my first year as a teacher. I had considered a video blog, then remembered quite swiftly how much of an aversion I have to my own face. So that was quickly pushed aside.
So this is my compromise. To train myself into writing more, I am going to make a written documentation of my journey into the world of working, teaching and pretending to have everything figured out. However, I'm fully ready to admit that I'm not quite there... yet.
This is my first job. My first proper job. I'm living on my own for the first time, in a second floor, one bedroom flat. I did live away from home while at University, but with friends and I always came home at the weekends to present a bag of washing to my mother. Now I am 400 miles away from where I call home, and it's been three weeks since I've seen my parents. The longest I have ever gone without seeing either of them. I'm paying bills and washing my own clothes and have bought my very first couch.
I'm not entirely sure how often I'm going to write, or whether I'll have a regular structure to what I talk about but I've made the first step and it's a strange and unexpected journey that's ahead of me. If the only person who ever reads it is me, 5 years from now, I guess that would be okay. But I would prefer some company.
Wish me luck.
Sarah
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