A year in reflection

In just over a month I will be back at work. I can scarcely believe the last year has flown by so fast, and what a year it’s been.

I have spent much of today manually migrating my blog over to this new platform, as the automatic migration was not particularly successful. Me being me, I read over every single entry before re-posting it here, and it was kind of weird to read what I’d written pre-baby: not so much weird because life is so different, but because I feel like a completely different person to what I was then.

Reading about how crazy I was about horse riding, how obsessed with writing, how fierce my ambitions following a life-changing program, and my somewhat ridiculous notion to write another manuscript on my ‘year off’, I almost had to laugh. How those passions have juxtaposed with the experiences of being a parent.

I haven’t completely abandoned these passions, but I’ve found it difficult to approach them with quite the same enthusiasm as I did in the past. I’m still riding, albeit only once a week, and it often feels like I have to drag myself there out of obligation. And while I have done some writing, so far it’s been nothing but self-indulgent claptrap lacking any kind of coherent plot.

I’m kicking myself now that I haven’t put better use to the last year. Well, the 20 minutes which hasn’t been spent in raising my child, anyway. But I’ve found it difficult to regain my love of writing. It’s not that I don’t want to do it anymore. I still follow the dream of publication, and I still want that creative outlet for myself so my whole world isn’t taken up with being a parent.

But just because I haven’t done much writing, the year hasn’t been a complete failure, writing-wise. I’ve had a short story published, and I’ve had some interest from a literary agent in taking on my series, which has kept my hope alive. Said agent shall remain nameless for now lest it all come to naught.

Now all I need is some inspiration. And a plot.

But still, the literary fire is no longer raging. Perhaps this is because I haven’t had the spare time I thought I’d have. Or because there’s nothing more important in my life than Finn, and he is my first priority over everything. Or maybe it’s because I can’t really write anything else until I’ve got this plot sorted.

Needless to say, life has changed forever and I’m hoping I still have room for my writing, especially once I’m back at work and me time will be an even rarer occurrence than it is now.

I have mixed feelings about my return to work. Part of me is looking forward to wearing nice clothes again and talking to adults and using my brain. The other, much larger, part is dreading the thought of leaving Finn for 8-9 hours at a time, three days a week. I don’t know how I’m going to tear myself away from him, physically and emotionally. But separation is all part of life and we need the money if we’re going to build a house. There’s also this niggling thought in the back of my head that maybe the change will re-inspire me to start writing again. And that’s enough to keep the flame flickering.

In the meantime, I’ll keep turning my latest plot over in my head and hoping that eventually it forms into something that actually makes sense. And if all else fails, I’ll grab it by the cahunas and drag it, kicking and screaming, into something I can work with.

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About Rebecca Freeborn

Writer, reader, horse rider, unapologetic grammar nazi, wine drinker. View all posts by Rebecca Freeborn

2 responses to “A year in reflection

  • Shireen

    I really understand that feeling of time standing still after a baby arrives! I am still amazed that you managed to write anything in the first year. My brain and self was a tangled mess for well over a year!! Hope all goes well with going back to work x

  • rebeccafreeborn

    Thanks Shireen! I feel silly now for ever thinking I was going to write a book in the first year, but at least I got a bit done 🙂

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