What do I want?

Firstly, I want to post as Sacha. First time.

Secondly, I want to become a full-time writer. You know, stay at home, write something everyday, experience life, drink and fret. I'm quite accomplished at the writers' life style (at least the clichéd one), so I really need to add the writer part to that.

I'm giving myself 10 years. It seems like a long time, but if it happens sooner: gravy. I like gravy.

I'm doing a course that, in 10 months, will have pushed me to write a first draft of a novel.

I'm resurrecting this blog, which was always my outlet, through Chas, to keep the writing skills up. The funny thing is, despite the existence of this blog and various other (and quite numerous) bits of writing I've done, I've NEVER considered myself a writer. I don't know why, whether it was something I was told I couldn't be in high school, or a mental block in my own world view, but I just never considered it.

I know this. I love writing. I have a creative imagination. I always have. The stories and ideas and philosophies and howtos running around my head have never had an outlet. I've always looked at film making, or game development as a possible dumping ground for my imaginings, but they are difficult, time consuming professions that require many people to be involved.

Writing is solitary. You don't need anyone else to get the story out of your head. Of course, you need many people to polish a story or any piece of writing to a form it can make a living for you, but the hard part, the part I need: the downloading of the creative madness from my brain; that, I can do myself.

So, as Chas mentioned below (well, me, but I've lived with Chas being my online agent that he basically is someone else), I'm about to start a very scary 3 months of living with a stranger, looking for work to pay the rent and writing in my spare time. I'm a pessimist, and a realist and I can't see my chances being that good. I may have to enjoy Paris while I can, and head back to Australia where I have a better chance of finding work. The French don't put much stock on 10 years of experience and a willingness to work hard. They want specific degrees for specific jobs. They want clones and robots. It's a pity I have no way of proving worth until I'm already through the door. But, I digress, this post is about writing, not the French. I've got plenty to say on both.