Writers, allay my fears! Help me get our of this hole and make a change.
It’s time for change. I don’t mean a change of socks, or hairstyle, or brand of coconut water. Although I may decide to change all of those things at some point. I mean, I need a big change.
I just want to write. I don’t want to waste any more time in a job that doesn’t allow me to do that. I feel like I’m digging deeper and deeper into a hole which leads nowhere, and the further I carve into the earth, the more difficult it’s going to be to climb out.
‘So quit. Just leave your job and write.’ Sounds simple. But the more I read about how to do this, and the more I fumble for footholds which will aid my climb back to the surface, the more impossible the journey seems.
I’m a doubter. A glass-half-empty kind of guy. This doesn’t help. I am risk adverse and like being comfortable. It’s nice and warm and safe down in this hole I’ve dug. I know this hole doesn’t lead anywhere, but I know how to dig it. I dig this damn hole better than most, and I’ve spent a long time doing it.
The chances are, I’ll start my climb to the surface, lose my footing and end up right back where I started at the bottom of the trench to lap my wounds.
I realise now, I can’t do this on my own. I struggle to ask for help. I always have. That’s why I dig alone, with my head down, always down, digging quietly into the corporate quagmire.
But I need help getting out of this hole. There are people who have clawed their way out, and they stand on the surface, looking across the landscape pop marked by human molehills. I see their shadows moving across my pin-hole skylight, way above head.
‘You people up there. Hello. I’m Richard. Can you hear me? Can you hear my calls? Send down a rope. Shine a light down here. Help me out. Tell me how you did it. Tell me how you got out of your hole.’
If you have changed career to be a writer, let me know your story. I’d love to hear from you. It might be enough to start my climb back to the world I want to be a part of.