Why You Probably Don’t Actually Want to Be A Writer
It’s okay, neither did I
There’s a lot of significance in the number 363.
For one, it’s the average number of seconds between each of Donald Trump’s brain farts on X/Twitter.
It’s also the number of days since I last posted on Medium. Almost an entire year of without writing a single creative word.
So why do I call myself a writer?
I’ve been spending a lot of time on Indeed recently. It’s not that I dislike my job, it’s just something I don’t want to do anymore. I miss out on too many bedtimes, school runs and weekends, so I’ve started looking for something else.
The parents amongst you will understand when I say that kids want to know what you’re doing, all of the time. So when I told them I was searching for a new job, the interrogation began.
My seven-year-old asked,“Why don’t you get a job playing Fortnite?” (Playing Fortnite together is our new thing)
My ten-year-old said, “Well what kind of job do you want to do?”
I contemplate for a second, but I already know what my answer is.
I want to tell her that writing is all I’ve wanted to do from the moment I pressed “Publish” on Medium and sent my words into the…
