See the notion that comes from “Working from Home” is the supposed abundance of free time. Well, yes and no. Yes, because you are at home, supposedly chilling in your pyjamas (unlike YouTubers who have morning routines where they get about their day at home with a full face of makeup, the furthest I’d go would be to have a shower, breakfast and wear more home-clothes) and deciding what you want to do with the rest of your day. No, because working from home also requires an abundance of self-discipline that seem to come in like a cool breeze on a hot summer’s day. Sometimes, it’s not as infrequent depending on your levels of happiness, hormones and Heaven knows other monstrosities that govern your day to day existence.
But when it comes to writers who work from home,
(Still despite all hesitation, confusion and problems where career is concerned like to think that I am a writer)
there is no excuses, right?
Or that is what I thought so too the days I’ve stayed at home to work. See the work (that is not necessarily related to writing) always happened, but the writing, never came by.
And I’m not even talking about novels. It’s these little blog posts. Prose poetry stuff. Or even a Trip Advisor review.
If I were to show you the number of posts that are sitting in my WP drafts, half-written Pages saves or even the scribbles from various notebooks, the only question would be as to why not go ahead and finish them now.
I’ve done that before and all I can say is that the train of thought once lost, doesn’t really come back. It’s weird because for someone like me who remembers shiz that no one ever should, it should ideally come easy. Because I remember things. But trains of thought seem to pass by and never come back, I don’t know why.
While it definitely motivates and makes me happy to read others’ writings, it doesn’t always help to see pages and volumes of publications making its way to the Internet and print media, while I am stuck here trying to hit a 500 words.
Until sunnier times to write.