Going out alone into the big, wide world…

It’s a funny thing, but when you find yourself making your living from writing, you have less writing left in you for the private things. I wonder if that’s the same for everyone? I found that, when I started my last job, writing about food, kitchen things, and all the things that had occupied my ‘just for fun’ occupation of blogging, I no longer had any steam left for blogging. I used all my steam up for my 9-5.

Similarly, I now spend my days writing all manner of things (and sending emails, oh the endless emails), and it leaves very little brain space for other things.

However, today is the first day of doing this gig full time, and it’s made me think good and hard about how things are and where I’d like them to go. Since I left my job at the end of October to pursue the freelance writing life, my little boy had his time at daycare cut in half. So up until now, I’ve been doing a daily dance, where I rushed to drop him off, rushed home to get some work done, shower, feed the dogs, do the shopping, and then rushed off 4 hours later to fetch him. It’s been a wild 4 months, with Christmas and his daycare holiday (and very unproductive time for me) in the middle, but now I’m heading out into the wild west without a baby on my hip.

See, last month I had so many queries, requests and quotes that it looked as though the future was rosy, and that I needed much more time. Our day mom was encouraging me to let him go back full time, and truthfully, he gets much more stimulation from the other kids there than I can realistically give him. So we did it, and committed him back to full time, four days a week (we’ll stick to swimming class on Friday morning and spending the day with mom).

But now I’m facing 8-9 hour days alone with my computer (who am I kidding? I’m still working from my iPad until I can scrape together the money for a Mac – my PC snobbishness runs deep), and I’m wondering if this was the best decision?

So I guess this is my (wordy) way of putting it out into the universe. I’d like some more work, please. I’d like all your article writing, editing and proofing. I’d love to help you make sales and sense of your world, and take your words and help make them make magic. I’d love nothing more than to work with a variety of clients from all industries, and help them make their words make sense. It truly gives me a wonderful feeling to help bring words to life, and see my work out there in the world, helping.

If you know anyone in need of a writer, send them my way, ok? Thanks :)

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What a great start to the year! We were burgled.

Wow, it’s 25 days into 2017 (well, 26 as I write this), and we were burgled. I came home from picking my son up from daycare, to find the alarm going off. Now, I’ve set the thing off plenty of times myself, and at first glance everything looked ok. I thought I had accidentally set it off myself. But once I went inside, I realised something was off, which was when I noticed an enormous hole in the front door.

My heart nearly leaped through my chest. I had just cancelled the armed response! In a panic, I called them back, frantic, worrying there was still someone here, and my baby was sleeping in the car! They were right outside, having come when I didn’t answer my phone. The burglars were gone, and so were both our TVs and a DVD player. None of them state-of-the-art, but still ours. And they left behind a gaping hole in the door, and one in my trust levels.

I work from home. I’m here pretty much every day, and most of the day. I work in the mornings, and fetch my son at lunch. We come home, eat, play, go to the park. I always lock up when we go out, but I don’t always set the alarm. I don’t sit here with our security beams on, cloistered inside the house. I let my son play outside, while I am inside (within earshot, and with frequent visits, because silent toddlers are scary). We leave doors open, I rarely lock my car once I’m parked inside. Why bother? I thought.

But today, my trust in my own home, my faith in the security of my space has gone. I have had the doors locked, the panic button next to my workspace, the security beams on all day. What would I have done if we had been home at the time? It appears as though they waited for me to leave, which I can only be grateful for. But why do I keep saying to myself and others “It could have been worse.” Yes, it could have. But why are there people who feel like they can walk into your house and take your things, violate your privacy, and walk out again with no consequences. How crap is our justice system, that someone can crowbar open a panel of your front door, safe in the knowledge that nothing will happen to them? 

Today, I feel sad, vulnerable and panicky. I also feel angry and pissed off that we have to live in a prison to protect what’s ours, while the perpetrators will never see the inside of one. Having experienced this once before, I know that this feeling will fade. But I don’t know how I will ever be able to leave my son to play unattended in the garden, like a child should, knowing that someone with a screwdriver and a crowbar can make their way into our home. How do you get back the trust?