It is on these days, these crazy mayhem deadline days, that I know for absolute sure that I, Livvy, am alive and well and truly kicking. On these days I wake already writing in my head, and writing all the time I am making breakfast for Anna-mouse and fussing over her packed lunch and walking her up the hill to school.
By the time I get back to the house I have taught myself (it's taken a year) to ignore the beds, the washing-up, the washing and simply make a coffee on the stove, turn on the computer and... start. This is a true triumph, for me, over procrastination, which has stalked me in the form of a housewife with a wagging finger for years. The house, well yes, it's a tip. But I'm being creative! More than that, I'm doing the self-made job I dreamed up exactly one year ago. Okay so it's not making me any money yet but oh! On days like today, when the cogs were whirring and the phones were going and the keyboard was click, click clicking with my words - who cares?
No that's too flippant. I do care, actually, that although my venture is a massive critical success, it is not feeding myself and Anna-mouse. It is what drives me, the will to succeed with this financially in a way that I have not experienced before.
That psychic I went to, you know, that one I saw in Ireland the week I met the Bim. She always said, sideways out of her cheroot-smoking mouth, that the second half of my life would be successful. The first had held much unhappiness, she said (I couldn't help but nod, although I was trying not to give too much away to allow her to do her psychic thing), but the second - well! She had to light another cheroot and pace the room with it, my cards were that exciting.
Now although that was ten years ago, give or take, I am willing, on days like today, when the blood was racing with the thrill of meeting my self-imposed deadline, to believe her.