Good God. I really have no idea how this happened. One minute I was sitting in Spain having a bloody good time, writing a (crappy) novel, sleeping in and generally just minding my own business, and the next minute I’m back in Brisbane kicking myself for somehow not managing to get any of my jackets dry cleaned in the six months I had off, and checking all of my nude stockings for ladders.
So I can wear them, not strangle myself. Don't worry.
How do I feel about returning to work? Brilliant of course! (My boss reads my blog). Okay, maybe a tad depressed but I think that’s only natural after six months off. I’m also a little nervous to be honest – nervous that my brain has entered a permanent state of hibernation and will have forgotten how to function. I might need to pack a marketing textbook in my handbag just in case someone actually asks me a question about marketing. Like what it is.
I’m still not exactly sure what I’m going to be doing tomorrow, but I suspect it will involve answering the questions ‘How was your trip?’ (Fantastic!) and ‘How’s the book coming along?’ (Nearly finished!) around 850 times. My good friend Kellie Hogan suggested I just issue a memo on my arrival that provides a summary of answers to all possible questions to save repeating myself. I think that might actually be a good idea, thanks Kel. Or I might just commandeer the reception PA system and make a quick speech on my arrival.
To mark the end of my time as a full time ‘creative’, I wanted to write a list of acknowledgements. You know, like the kind you see in the back of a book where they thank Tom, Dick and his mate Harry for helping them with the book. I’ve actually got a lot of people to thank for helping make the last six months possible. And as my book will probably never see the light of day, I thought best to do it right here, in my blog.
Kelly Kent, aspiring novelist and inspiring friend, who made a bet with me two years ago and then kept me to it. Thanks for helping me with my ‘writing wobbles’, and encouraging me to just dive in and bloody well do it. I doubt any of this would have ever happened without you.
Lizzie and Paul. I truly can’t say enough about these two. Thanks for the festival of Paul, the copious amounts of herbal tea, not subjecting me to any horror movies, your gorgeous country cottage, robust debates about the movie Love Actually, and most of all for opening your home to a writer-in-residence you hadn’t even laid eyes on for five years. I can’t wait for my new bedroom in Bloomsbury to be finished!
Jane and Ben (and Bella the dog), the very-soon-parents-to-be who welcomed me so warmly into their amazing Knightsbridge home for the second year in a row, and who always make me feel like another Cleary sister! Thanks for my A-class rugby experience, teaching me how to make sausage rolls, and giving me a lifelong aversion to yellow paint/80 year old handymen.
Kate and Keith. For loaning me your awesome pad in Clapham while you were on holidays in Australia (and trusting me with your super deluxe kitchen).
Frank and Lorraine: my Corporate Girl bosses who said ‘Sure, off you go’, and are actually willing to take my hibernating brain back on again. Risky move.
Wonderful friends, sisters, family, colleagues and random distant acquaintances who have genuinely encouraged my novel writing escapade. I hear horror stories about people who tell family and friends they are writing a novel, only to be made to feel like they’re delusional and should be admitted to the local psychiatric ward ASAP. My experience has been the total opposite, to the point where it would be impossible for me to actually name everyone individually without getting RSI from typing.
Everyone who reads my blog. Yes, you out there, whoever you are and wherever you may be – from Russia to Japan, Singapore to Brasil. It always gives me a massive kick when people tell me they read my blog/their Mum reads my blog (hi Lyn!)/I made them laugh/they tell me about their favourite post. Thanks for being my writing guinea pigs. I hope it wasn’t too torturous.
Dell computers. Turns out your laptop was suitable after all, even if I did lose E, F, N and S.
And of course Mum and Dad, who always encourage and support me no matter what crazy idea I’m dreaming up (I’m quitting my job to go and work in the Canadian ski fields/I’m taking six months off to write a book/I’m getting a tattoo). I feel fortunate every day to be your daughter. Oh, and I’m joking about the tattoo.
Finally, to the woman who stole my wallet on Friday night. Thank you for your nimble finger work right before I am due back at work instead of last week when I would have had heaps of time to get my new license, medicare card etc sorted out. I would have given you the $50 I had in there if you’d just asked. Okay, maybe not, but seriously. Get a job.
I think that’s everyone, but I’m not sure (please refer to earlier note re: brain hibernation).
Thank you, thank you, thank you. Writing is a very solitary endeavour, and yet I honestly couldn’t have done it without my fantastic support crew. And I promise to repeat this if a publishing miracle ever does appear in my future. Even if I really am using a zimmer frame by the time that ever happens.
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