Last week I took a leap of faith.
I have worked all my life. There hasn’t been a choice, really. I wasn’t born into a wealthy family. Nope. Definitely not a lot of anything came from there.
Anyway … last week I quit my job. I thought about it for a whole day. I thought about how hard I worked for the company. How many extra hours I put in. About how I just got docked a day’s pay because I took a sick day on a Friday, and somewhere in a plagiarized staff policy document it apparently says that I need a doctor’s certificate if I take a sick day on a Friday. I didn’t get one. I had already worked 40 hours that week without working the Friday anyway. They took 8 hours’ pay off me. I worked them, but that didn’t matter. I wasn’t going to get paid for them. So I quit.
Strangely enough, my employers never spoke to me about it. They called my immediate superior and asked him about it.
“Why is she leaving?”
“You docked her pay.”
“Oh, surely there’s more to it than that?”
Nup. Not really. I hate getting screwed over. I have principles. They don’t. I quit.
Once I posted on my Facebook that I quit my job, my dear friends all jumped to my side with “OMG?!” and “WTF?!” comments. But one friend in particular reminded me that it’s time to write. I have been saying all my life I am going to be a writer when I grow up – however the opportunity never came my way. Well, it did … but generally in the form of articles for press, annual reports, prospectuses and advertorials that were published with the bosses’ names on them.
God knows – as does this friend – that I’ve had a big life outside the box. So there’s a wealth of experience to fall back on. Writing a novel takes discipline that I don’t have, though.
Not in the least because my ADD won’t let me concentrate for more than a few seconds … to give you the picture:
Once upon a time there was a princess, and she lived in a castle. Like the ones I saw in the Czech Republic. The Czech Republic was invaded by the Russians. I went to Russia once. There was only one castle in Saint Petersburg, did you know that? The rest are all palaces. Wierd place. Everyone was sad. Like Beijing. Everyone’s sad there. Maybe it’s just because I was there in the dead of winter. The lake at the Summer Palace was frozen. We walked over it, and I played bowls with blocks of ice, using Chinese people wandering across the frozen lake as pins. Wonder if anyone filled the ice trays so I can make a cold drink? …
… and it takes commitment to work on it every day for years. My plot would tac every third day.
When I was young, a valuable old friend, then mentor for my dissonant life, once wrote to me about a paragraph in Anais Nin’s diaries that he said reminded him of me: “Ordinary life does not interest me. I seek only the high moments. I am in accord with the surrealists, searching for the marvelous.” (The Diary of Anaïs Nin , Volume One 1931-1934).
He was dead right. That quote was me in a nutshell.
So I’m blogging to try and discipline myself into writing regularly. ‘In Search of the Marvelous’ I’m calling it – in honour of my life creed.
Ironically, I started setting up the blog, and chose a “theme”. Next step is to Preview. I hit the ‘Preview’ button and got this:
“Sorry, but you are looking for something that isn’t there.” Well, there’s an ominous piece of advice to start with. Good thing I don’t give up easily.
So, welcome to my marvelous life. Time to get back to my defrosting fridge …