My last day job was great. I loved the nursing students I worked with, and the other staff members were great. My position was rewarding but not as stressful as my previous ones. The only thing was, I wanted to be writing more than I wanted to be in that office. So after much thought, and planning to be sure I could pull it off financially, I resigned so I could write full-time. I never regretted that decision.
Fast forward 14 months, and I recently contacted my former boss and colleagues about setting up a lunch date. I got an email from my boss explaining that things were in flux. One person was resigning, another was going out of town for a while; could I come in and help out?
My answer was an immediate yes–I really believe in the RRANN program and I want to help out if I’m needed. But my next reaction surprised me a bit. I started to think of my conditions: how many hours I’d be willing to work a day, how many in a week, how many weeks total. Because I need my writing time. I count on it now, and I’m not willing to go without it. Writing has become that important to me.
A little voice went off in my head that said, “You’re a real writer now.” Maybe I am. And that feels good.
P.S. I’m going to work in the afternoons, so that’ll preserve my morning writing time.