For the last three years, I have been building a teaching career, happily so. A longer post will appear one day, in which I tell you in rambling detail, quite how important this step has been for me and how much I have grown through the job. I really do love it and I know, deep in my heart, that it has done me the world of good.
And yet...
Being fiercely independent and needing, deeply, increasing autonomy about my working life, I have been moonlighting, cramming, and dreaming of other occupations which can live along side my teaching. I have been adding strings to my bow. This blog is essentially a tool for me to figure out and develop these sidelines; cooking, crafting, yoga teaching and now, writing: All are creative, all are nourishing.
But for now, the writing. It has been hard. I have been working to a publisher's brief and putting together a guide to gothic, perfect for those pesky 14-years olds that I spend my days with. The process has been far more demanding than I anticipated, and as I approach my deadling (Monday - deep breath....) I am both grateful and terrified to be handing over the work that I have done. This is the first time that I have ever written professionally, and for me, this is a big, big deal.
The process? An eye-opener. Way more thinking than I had anticipated. More cups of tea, more breaks, more procrastinating and fankly, more back ache. I am grateful for the opportunity to see if this lifestyle, of working to deadlines, of being alone, of sorting and sorting and sorting my thoughts, could be for me. Now I am nearing the end? I think so. I think I could handle the process again and hope (publisher willing) that I get another opportunity.
The greatest thing is however, the autonomy. I like to handle my own time. I like to be creative and I am grateful for a framework within which to be just that.
