If not now, when?

14th October 2024……

Today is the day that I make my leap into the unknown, but not simply from a to b, because that would be too easy.

This feels more like a space flight from planet earth to another galaxy entirely. There may be other forms of life there or it may be utterly uninhabitable.

I don’t know and that’s the point. Typical me.

Since the age of 18 I’ve been a proud, card carrying member of the workers union of the gainfully employed.

But not after today. My last pay cheque goes in at the end of October and then it’s going to be bread & water for the foreseeable, as we eek out our ISA’s and life savings for as long as it takes.

Because today is the day that my career as a writer, or more accurately, as an unpublished, unpaid, poverty-stricken author begins. Finally.

Although undoubtedly not always successfully, in my life, I’ve always tried to do the right thing and following my own personal dreams just felt like an incredibly selfish and self-centred thing to do.

So instead, I chose the life of a wage slave and focused on the task at hand, my dreams would have to wait.

For so long, it just never seemed to be the right time.

Independence # 1, the first flat, all the girlfriends who somehow flattered to deceive, then a wife, a mortgage, my kids, another mortgage, divorce, independence # 2, another mortgage, middle age, a 2nd wife, step-kids, holidays in the sun, grand-kids… there was always something.

But then, unexpectedly, something else happens. Something that isn’t in the script and you don’t see coming.

It’s when, at least in my case, you reach the wrong side of fifty and boom, it hits you right between the eyes like a truth bomb:

Time is running out and, after that, the rest is simple logic.

It’s not some complicated mathematical formula; just common sense:

• If it’s true that there’s less time left than the time it’s already taken for everything that’s gone before, you’re already somewhere, deep into the second half of your time here on the planet.
• And if, like me, you’re a non-believer, then you’ll also know there are no second chances, we’re not coming back as birds of the sky, jungle cats or goldfish, this is it.
• Consequently, as the years go by, you just know, from deep within your core and with increasing certainty, that the time you have left, becomes more precious with each and every passing year.

The schism between the things you want to achieve and the time you have to do it in becomes more acute and these nagging feelings of underachievement are only ever going to get worse.

So, given this newly acquired harsh reality, what was yours truly doing with all of this precious time?

In summary, waking up each new day, with that old familiar knot of anxiety and dread in his gut, after another night of fitful sleep, leaving the house at 7am, spending anything up to 5 hours a day travelling in and out of deepest, darkest London, to a job that he wasn’t enjoying & paying a fortune every month for the privilege.

Not exactly smart.

Whilst the money was good, material possessions don’t automatically equate to happiness and I found myself asking the same question, over and over again.

If not now, when?

So, this is where we came in, and today, I make the leap….

…In which case, why the long face, GB, I hear you ask and nope, this isn’t a joke about a racehorse walking into a bar.

Actually, it’s surprisingly terrifying, making a leap into the unknown and so I cling to the positives of which there are two:

1. It’s day one and I am not yet beaten down with fear, self-loathing or writer’s block.
2. I am armed with a subscription to a series of online writing courses and my 2nd edition Novel Writing for Dummies manual, so that’s alright then.

Anyway, what could possibly go wrong?