Dreaming of a different kind of life

standard March 10, 2015 1 response

90% of my days are the same. I get up, get dressed, pack lunches for the kids, schlep them to school, come home, eat a little breakfast, and sit myself down at my computer.

Most of the time I already know what I’m going to write. I have articles to write, social media posts to craft, ad campaigns to conceptualize. The words are there, somewhere in my head, I just need to let them out – via my fingers – into the computer.

Other days I just stare at the screen. Tired. Drained. Completely tapped out of anything creative or original to add to the miasma that is already swirling around the Internet.

Those are the days I long for a regular 9-5 job where I can just react to what is handed to me instead of having to create something from scratch.

Those are the days when I give in to my endless daydream of owning a little country inn. Couple rooms, kitchen, small common area. My days would entail lots of cleaning, some cooking, administrative duties, and maybe a couple surprises here and there.

It sounds like an insane amount of work. And yet, it sounds like the most restful thing I can think of.

Imagine a life where you always know what to do, where you always have something concrete to point to at the end of the day. Today I did that and it had that effect on that person. Such bliss.

So when people go and do something crazy like offering up their incredible country inn, not for sale, but to the winner of a writing contest. I almost have trouble controlling the drool pooling in my mouth.

Inn! Words! I mean DUDE. I could be all over that.

And then I remember that I have those children that I have to tend to every day and that husband who actually likes his job (most days) and that we actually enjoy living in California. And Maine, while pretty, just ew on the whole snow and winter thing.

And I love the writing, the sitting at my desk with the puppy at my feet, letting the words flow freely from my brain to the screen.

It’s just that some days I think I’d rather be baking a pie for my paying guests and planning out a week’s worth of breakfasts before I go clean up a room that has just been vacated and give my brain a bit of a break.

Until I remember once again how much love to write. How much I need to write. Then I sit back down, put my fingers on the keyboard, and get to work.

Where the magic happens.

Where the magic happens.

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1 response

  • You know I can relate! I sometimes wish I was able to just walk away and do something else, but I know I wouldn’t be nearly as fulfilled as I am when I write. Also, as lovely as that inn sounds-no way I’m moving to Maine!

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