I’ve been writing full time for almost five years, starting just after I turned forty. It’s a funny age isn’t it? On one hand we are told, over and over that life is just beginning, on the other, that it’s all downhill from here.
I, being a glass half full kind of gal, chose to believe the former.
Making the decision to change careers was a terrifying one. I was a Sales and Marketing Manager, with a company car, expense account and decent salary. To become a writer meant giving all that up, because there is no fixed salary for this profession. Many authors never earn a minimum wage, never mind a decent living. And taking aside that not insurmountable obstacle, every time I thought about sharing something I’d written, I’d become paralysed with fear.
It was one thing to kick stories around in my head, another to show the world those very words that up until then I’d kept hidden. who I wanted to be, who I really was.
I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t imagining stories in my head, creating worlds for my teddy bears, my siblings, my friends and then my children. I’ve always been an avid reader too, books on every subject from gothic horrors, romantic comedies to weighty prose written by authors far cleverer than I.
Five years on, I kick myself that I waited so long. But I also recognise that maybe I needed to follow my slightly off beat path to get to where I am today. Does that make sense? Maybe, I needed to be that Burger flipper, Petrol Pump Attendant, Waitress, Budweiser PR girl, Hostess, Aviation Buyer and finally Sales and Marketing Manager, to value what I do now everyday.
Sometimes, I look back on those days, wearing my pencil skirts and heels, carrying a bulging briefcase and I’m not sure I recognise who that woman is. My life is so different now than it was ten years ago. I have always been a worker that much is unchanged. I come from a long line of people who have a strong work ethic. My family are not afraid to get our hands dirty. We are not afraid of long hours and all share the same mantra, that if a job is worth doing, its worth doing right.
As a Sales and Marketing Manager, I travelled Ireland, visiting clients, making presentations, fighting for that “close.” I was good at what I did, felt valued by my employer, enjoyed the camaraderie of my colleagues and had a decent salary. But I wasn’t happy. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t, but I didn’t enjoy my work. And more than anything, I felt like a fraud. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it at the time, but I always felt this underlying dissatisfaction and unease each day as I walked into the office. I think it was because I didn’t chose the career I had somehow ended up in – I just fell into it, for all sorts of reasons that are too long and mundane to go into.
And that disappeared when I started to write. For the first time in my professional life, I feel authentic and true. I believe that now, I am doing what I am supposed to do. And isn’t that a gift? Because I know a lot of people never get to experience that. I never take it for granted.
It’s tricky, at times, because I have a young family who couldn’t care less that I have a deadline to meet with my publisher. They – quite rightly – want cuddles, songs, snacks at a moments notice. So, I have to work around their needs. We arise early every morning and by 9am when the children go to school, I have already done the laundry, washed up, made beds, ironed and sorted dinner. I suspect that most working parents are doing the same, all around the world. But as soon as the kids are away, I have to forget about being Mummy/Chef/Housekeeper/Referee/TaxiDriver and more. I sit at my desk, switch off and I write.
I have to set an alarm on my phone everyday to let me know when its time to collect the children. Because when I’m completely absorbed in a particular story I can lose hours. And hours, are something I don’t have enough off! Outside of my commitments to write novels, I have do some TV and Radio work, I write features for magazines, newspapers, online publications and I teach creative writing. I often feel overwhelmed by the sheer volume of work I have to do, but here’s the thing, despite that, I’ve stopped feeling like a fraud. I wake up every morning, happy to tackle the day and whatever it throws at me.
I love that I am my own boss. I’m a legend to work for by the way. For example, I’ve vetoed a dress code, allowing myself to wear whatever I feel like. I wear jeans everyday and every now and then, I write in bed, wearing pj’s. I choose my own hours and as I work from home, the commute is short. I cannot tell you how much I don’t miss the motorway car park I used to face every morning for years. I can take a coffee break whenever I want and its nobodies business when I take my turn helping to run my daughters school library.
But, it does mean that many evenings are spent working, once the kids are in bed. I do all possible to keep weekends free, but sometimes it’s unavoidable. Right now, it’s pretty hectic. My new novel, Every Time A Bell Rings, has just been published. I have a book launch coming up next month, and lots of promotional interviews that go hand in hand with being an author with a new book.
In addition, I am working hard on my edits for my next novel, that are long overdue. Sometimes when I look at my diary, with my lists of my writing commitments, I panic. But then I stop and breathe and realise that it’s all good. I chose this career. I am doing what I want to do. I love every aspect of it – even the long horrendous hours, spent in front of my laptop when the children and my husband are fast asleep. Because, I get moments like the one I had yesterday when I held a copy of Every Time A Bell Rings for the first time. I created something from my mind – to laptop to finished paperback.
Me.
For more information on Carmel Harrington, go to www.carmelharrington.com To download a copy of Carmel’s latest book click here, myBook.to/EveryTimeABellRings