It is a gorgeous fall day outside. The sun-drenched trees are showing the slightest sign that those leaves are ready to turn from green to vibrant shades of yellow, red and orange. Meanwhile, I am stuck inside. Stuck behind an old wooden desk, on top of which sits a - possibly - even older computer. I would rather be out in the world.
Today is one of those days when I wish I were a full-time writer. Instead of sitting here in this ergonomically incorrect chair, behind this hard, cold wooden desk in this former dorm room, turned office, I wish I were sitting in my own leather desk chair typing on my laptop. Or maybe I would be in a cafe somewhere. I could be at a park reading a book that informs and inspires my current writing project. Then I would go home, get comfortable and write for three hours straight.
This freedom of being a full-time writer would allow me to create. No other obligations to distract me. No meetings to attend. No last minute changes to my To Do list. Instead, my mind would be in that joyous state of "flow". Ideas would stream out effortlessly. Words would form into delicious sentences, rich with meaning and all grammatically correct.
At least, that is how I envision my life as a full-time writer. In reality, I go home after a day at the office sit down at the computer and try to get back into the mindset of my characters. I try to sink into the feel of their settings And I try to type out a few paragraphs. If I'm lucky, I might eke out a few pages.
Ah, if only...
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