I am so glad I am quitting my day job.
I was glad when I got the job, but hesitant. My being tied to a desk for 8 hours, minus one unpaid 60 minutes for lunch, having a headset on to get incoming calls, sounded like torture. It was. No fooling my intuition. I wanted to work, make some money, albeit the same hourly wage I earned in 1986, and have some health benefits, which I partially paid for.
After a month, I knew it was doomed. Pulled in all the mantras like I was directing Ocean's 14: here's my archetype of George Clooney, the cool and wise. Then there is Brad Pit, the wise guy, hungry all the time, putting in his time...there were all the other parts of my psyche and personality, showing up, saluting each morning doing the jumping jacks and toe-touches, and doing the tasks as asked. But then there was an insistent character, deep inside, who just couldn't abide the insanity of a whole house full of people who passed by each other like ghosts, no small talk, or even big talk, no talk, except for a wreath-making party, a staff meeting. That's it.
My writing faded, my reading passed away, my personal life was consumed by a desire to get a good night's sleep, which never came.
May 25th is my last day, and the day I forever become committed to being a full time writer, no matter what other "day" job I have to have.