An escape. A far away, a resort, an out of here, an anywhere else but. I imagine and draft and build my haven every night, and manage to ignore the new creative itch every day until the shift ends, until the paper is submitted, until I finish stressing over my to do list, the new creative itch to re-imagine, re-draft, re-built another ‘my place’ in my mind, one day, soon, one day, I just need to hold on until, a little more, just this push, just finish this, just wait this month, just see if they respond, just see how I like it, just wait…
But it’s there, this place of my own, where I arrange my furniture to allow for optimal productivity, to be comfy, to be safe, to be at home… It’s there, in my mind, where I have already chosen the shape of my writing desk and the textures of my throw to match the colours of my pillows and the juicer on the counter next to the fruit bowl.
There will forever be a ‘just until’, and I should question myself how long I will let it go. I am the crafter of my own destiny. I need to build the vessel that brings me to where I want to be. I have the drafts and blueprints ready.
A quarter of a century almost gone. What do I have to show for it? A thousand plans, all detailed and specified, timetabled and actioned, misplaced, forgotten, buried, dismissed, postponed. Time for the old cliché to mock me again – it’s time to get to work on paving the road to the port where the vessel of my determination and decisions await.