Despite the tough time that I am having with it at the moment, a revelation that occurred to me earlier today is that I wouldn’t give up my opportunity to write – my love of writing – for anything I could have in the world.
I walked past a couple moving into their new house today and thought wistfully, ‘I wish I had a house of my own to move into’. Especially as we currently have a leaking kitchen ceiling in our rented apartment from the flat above (whose occupants seem totally unconcerned).
But then I thought of that old saying ‘What I wouldn’t do for…’ and started to think. What would I give up if I could have a house of my own?
Actually, not much. Turns out that I’m more content that I realised. And the one thing that made me instantly stop this game I’d started in my mind; the idea of giving up my writing.
What, if anything, would make you give up your writing?
Or, like me, can you never imagine being able to sacrifice it at all?