I visited my sister the other night. We spent a lot of time talking about her recent trip to give blood (apparently her veins kept collapsing, the thought of which made me feel ill) but we also spoke about my decision to reduce the hours at my work. It’s not a huge amount but as of August I’ll be doing four days a week rather than five. It will allow me to spend an extra day with my son but it might also give me a little bit more time to write.
Then she suggested that I offer to run a creative writing class at the local primary school. ‘Inspire a generation’ she said. It’s an idea I feel really uncomfortable about being as I’d feel a bit of a fraud. I haven’t achieved anything as far as a writing career goes currently. I imagine a room full of ten year olds looking at this 32 year old idiot who has done nothing as far as what he is teaching and laughing at his attempts to show them how to use their imaginations.
Then came the obvious question. What has to happen for me to feel like I’ve achieved something? I couldn’t provide a concrete answer but it would have to be a couple of things that had reached a decent audience and had been vaguely well received before I considered standing beside a chalkboard for an afternoon.