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  • Writer's pictureKate O'Connor

3 months, 9 days and unknown hours...

Christmas looms, and I've finally found my way back to my website. To say the last few months have been a little hectic would be... well, putting it nicely.

September and October were frantic at work with the State Conference looming. I will never again be on an organising committee for an event like that. I'd never given much thought to what went into putting something like a conference together, and it showed. I was constantly surprised and blindsided by little things. Nonetheless, the conference went off with a bang and it seems like everyone who attended really enjoyed the three days in our little town.

So that was the conference. Not long before the conference rolled around, I had my final assessments due for the trimester at university. I've realised in the last six months or so that, as long as I actually submit something, I don't actually fail any of my assessments. So I set my anxiety aside and my nose to the grindstone and punched out some final pages for the year. Three units down for the course and the lowest mark I've gotten is a Distinction. Mum says I need to have more faith in myself, especially when it comes to my writing. Personally, I think my biggest issue is wondering what Stephen King would think if he ever read any of my work. That can put a gag on my muse faster than a Maccas sundae puts fat on my arse. And it's ridiculous, because SK says himself that a writer should firstly write with the door closed; i.e. just for themselves. Only once the first draft is done should you ever open the door. Wise words. I've read that damn book so many times and yet I'm still a ninny about some things. May 2020 be the year that changes.

Anyway, university finished and the conference over, I started wondering about my job and what I wanted to do going forward. My contract was up and I had to decide if I wanted to renew it or look for other work. In an ideal world, I would still be living in London and working in a role that had something, anything, to do with books and writing. Or a connection to it in some way. But, in case you wonderful readers haven't noticed, the world is a far cry from ideal these days, and thus I am living in a teeny tiny little rural town better known for its drug problems than the mining industry it spawned, working in a job I'm not 100% sure I should even be doing (there I go again, questioning my abilities) and talking to my parrot and dogs about the mess they make and how I'm the only one who ever does any cleaning around here. Perfect right?

Nonetheless, I am still here and still plodding forward. Christmas looms, I've done all my present shopping, and I am (for the most part) fairly content in life. But make no mistake, there will be lists made in the near future about what I want my future to look like and how to get it. Because if you make a list, it has to happen. Time is passing way too fast for me to keep putting it off. Time to man the Organisation Station! (Ok that was lame)

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