Good grief! Several hours of research, writing and editing later and my article for this magazine is almost ready to fly electronically to the desk of an editor to be judged. With a final read-through I can put the finishing touches on it… and then think relentlessly about what the frig I’ll wear to my interview.
I’ve really enjoyed rising to the challenge this week but I’ll still be glad to have sent it off. Not just because it’s a box ticked and brings a feeling of achievement . It’s also because my class and group have both ended for the Christmas period. I feel edgy, like I need to write some fiction. I need my fix, man!
It’s actually quite nice to feel that way, though. Not nice that I’m fidgeting like a drug addict; just nice to know it’s in my bones now. Finally writing has gone from being a passing activity to being some kind of creepy, unsettling addiction. It means I’ll always keep busy and always keep adding to my portfolio – whether I like it or not (and writing tends to be 99% “or not” by definition). I feel like I’ve got the bug and that I’m growing up. Two good things.
I’ll let you know how the interview goes whenever I can, but expect delays as I’m seeing friends and family from Thursday until Saturday. (Don’t worry, it’s just fallen that way. I’m not arrogant enough to organise a four-day ‘Got the Job’ rave party weeks in advance.)