Living the dream?

Photo by Alexander Grey on Unsplash

Two things have occurred this week that have been something of a wake-up call. The first was a discussion with my literary agent, where we agreed I need to take some time off before I finish my second novel (instead of after, as I had originally planned) as I am over-tired, over-emotional, and over-thinking EVERYTHING.

By the time I got back on the train after said discussion I had a sore throat, and by the time I got home I was running a temperature. I’ve spent most of the rest of the week in bed sick. This is probably no surprise to regular readers who may have spotted I was in need of a break when I wrote Why can't I rest? a few weeks ago.

The second was the receipt of a delightful email letting me know that The List of Suspicious Things has won a foreign literary prize and inviting me over to the associated festival for a long weekend (without giving too much away, it’s somewhere lovely too). How fabulous right? The wake-up call was my immediate reaction of ‘I can’t afford the time,’ in response to this delightful invitation.

When I gave up corporate life, I was determined that I was going to live differently. By that point I had exhausted myself in every possible way and knew something had to change. I had nothing left to give. So, I made some commitments to myself; no more working until my body gave up, no more holidays spent getting over the sickness that would begin the minute I stopped, no more putting work before everything else in my life. I was going to live purposefully, and really, really importantly I was going to enjoy myself.

At first, I did exactly that. The months I spent writing The List of Suspicious Things were some of the happiest I have ever had (it’s interesting to me that it was also the most financially precarious, uncertain time). I experienced the kind of creative expansiveness that I’ve been chasing ever since, without any sense of knowing where it would take me or what might happen next. All I knew was that writing fulfilled me in a way that nothing else ever had. Even the hard bits. This is it! (I thought) I’ve found my purpose in life! I will never be unhappy again!

What I am learning (again?) is that old habits really do die hard.

January 2025 was an amazing month by any measure. The List of Suspicious Things was Waterstones book of the month. It was number one in the Sunday Times Top 10 for two weeks. I travelled up and down the country signing books and doing events, during which I met the most amazing readers who had loved the novel and had some wonderful conversations with other writers. Lots of people said to me ‘wow, you’re living the author dream,’ and the thing is I was, except I was also - in my pursuit of getting everything done, on time and perfectly - regularly forgetting to enjoy it.

I am starting to realise that I can still manage to make a life filled doing the thing I love, among people I love, an exercise in productivity management. I should probably host a podcast (though I am not sure the tech-bro’s would really ‘get’ me) about how to suck the joy out of anything by making it into a task to be completed and turning life into a business to be managed.

Luckily for me, my body and mind will no longer comply with this way of living. The older I get the less I am able tolerate it. It also helps that the people I have around me are different too. I have an agent, a publisher, and a publicist who don’t just care about my output (thank goodness) and who rallied around me this week as I waved the white flag and surrendered.

I am not just taking my time to get better and taking some extra-time to finish my second book, I am also taking some time to reflect. To get out in the sunshine, to go to the cinema, to read some books I WANT to read, not just the books I have to read. To listen to some music and paint some pictures. To reconnect with why I started all this in the first place. Oh, and I’ve said yes to the literary festival invitation, so get ready for some swanning about looking stylish in the coming months.