New Pastures

There comes a point in your life, where you come to the realisation that maybe…just maybe, there is something more.

I couldn’t want for anything more; I consider myself blessed with family and friends.  But maybe…just maybe there is something more.

Untapped talent…

Undiscovered genius…

Unheard of fortes…

Untouched ability…

Unbelievable modesty...

Or maybe…just maybe, I am having a lend of myself.

Understandably, with running a household, rearing a toddler, managing a husband, holding down a part time job (translates – full time job), writing part time and reviewing part time, I have ample time to take on more.

In a moment of crystallised idiocy, I actually considered that I could be a writer as well.  Perhaps these musings may actually be of interest to someone else. Clearly that someone else would have little in the way of a life, but happy to afford a little time to these words.

I submitted my first article recently to a magazine for editorial consideration.  I steeled myself for the inevitable writer’s rejection slip.  I am not under any false pretence in this regard.  I already have a plan.  I am going to collect my rejection slips over time and wallpaper my library with them.  A tapestry of knock backs. My ultimate goal – because as a writer I think it is important to have goals – is to get rejected from all of the major publishing houses. Unfortunately my well considered plan has already come undone.  They loved my article and want to publish it.

Mathilda's Magazine