Mutterings and utterings of a budding novelist

Means to an end

In the past few days I have made this remark in deliberate reference to my job. I have also said a few times I wish I could pause time itself in order to blast out as much of my own work as possible.

Now I should probably be cautious when discussing my place of employment on my blog; you never know who’s watching or snooping. Speaking your mind on certain sites or social networks tends not to go down too well with superiors. Especially when you belittle them. Ha! But then again I’m a big believer in fate, so if any of my bosses read this and are offended, well I guess I’m sorry, and I’ll expect my P45 pronto. Futhermore, this isn’t work time, nor am I naming individuals, or businesses. It’s merely a record of my opinion at this moment in time.

Over the years my employers have shrunk our department repeatedly, which in turn puts added pressure on us that remain as we struggle to cope with the added workload. Now, in the past two months they’ve reduced us again – from five to two. Our department boss was one of the unfortunates to get the cull. So of course all the responsibilities he had have been passed to us, ramping up the workload to the extreme. Having already given up my breaks, I’ve now had to start splitting my lunch in half, and sometimes I go without any lunch at all and work straight through. All the time I’m sure our bosses feel we’re not working hard enough.

I guess it’s not the lessened breaks that bother me, it’s the fact that I used my lunchtime to work exclusively on my novel, and was a valuable window in which to hammer out some important illustrating and writing. Not that has basically gone, I’m finding the road towards fame and fortune is growing ever longer. I can’t believe I even felt guilty about working on it for twenty minutes today during lunch whilst customers endlessely griped where their advert was through email and telephone.

So what I’ve been debating about on the way home is wondering how much I can take of this Draconian regime. How much should I give up of my own life for a company who gives nothing in return. I’ve even debated with myself about taking more work home in order to lessen the burden during the daytime.

At what point do we stop following the dream and give in to a life of mundane, drab and bland obscurity. Currently I’ve been working on this novel for seven years now, with plenty of previous projects before it. I’m reaching thirty now and I’m pinning all my hopes on making this book a success and breaking free from the chains that demand so much of me and my collegues.

I see my dad, now in his late fifties, finally waking up to following his dreams and looking to escape his workplace that have held him for over twenty years. I envy him haha!

I make a vow to myself that I will never lose that passion, and I hope to look back on this in a few years and be proud that I never gave up.

Everyone I know who has a dream, I constantly tell them to never stop following it. If by some chance we really do only have one life, then I’m determined to make the most of it. And I hope everyone else does too 🙂

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