I’ve watched my son become a teenager, learned to sit still and enjoy the simple things, reminded myself of all the books and music that I used to love and had somehow lost along the way.
Thanks to a curveball thrown by the internet, I’ve found new family, and – just when I was ready to throw in the creative towel for good – I’ve been offered a couple of wonderful and slightly surprising author-type opportunities that will come more to light in the months to come. (Insert ‘squee!’ here).
It feels like a fallow year, a year to look round and take stock, if you like. A year to remind myself who I am, why I do my job, and what I actually get out of my writing.
When you have a growing child and a hectic schedule, and so, so many terrifying things that you have to sort out and control and achieve and on and on and on… it’s so very easy to lose yourself in the chaos of it all and to just forget what actually makes you happy.
I get that we all have to be grown-ups, and it’s important to remember that we can do this stuff if we have to… but it’s been a wonderful, almost incredulous, feeling to be able to let it all go.