A while ago, I noticed something scary.
For quite some time, longer than I realised, I haven’t been doing what I love. I haven’t written a creative word in months. I haven’t finished a short story since I graduated with my degree in English Literature and Creative Writing last year.
It’s always in the back of my mind. I should write something. This story would be interesting. But I don’t actually do it anymore.
I felt panicked when I realised this. How did I veer this far off track? Did I make the wrong choices? Am I on the wrong path completely?
I’m not heading where I thought I was. Have I made a serious mistake?
For a while, I was convinced that I had messed up.
I’ve been doing a Master’s degree in Publishing. That’s close to finished, so I’ve been applying for jobs and working on my dissertation. I…
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