And then, I picked the worst possible time to change jobs. Right in the middle of National Novel Writing Month, I packed up my belongings into a cardboard box, and made the move to another software company, where I’d have the opportunity to stretch my legs, so to speak, and expand upon my existing skills as a quality assurance analyst, to climb the corporate ladder.
Now don’t get me wrong… this was absolutely the right move career-wise, and after just the first 5 days, I’ve already been happier with my job than I’ve been in the last 5 years.
But the excitement and anticipation of the new job had completely overshadowed my other work. I didn’t even begin to think about the different ways my novel would suffer when I took on this new position. The added drive time to the swanky new office downtown has more than tripled my daily commute, meaning more time on the road, and less time spent with my family. And more importantly, my characters. Spending eight hours a day training or reading over required documentation has eaten into the spare time I had between projects at my old job, where I could easily kill 30 to 45 minutes working on my next chapter.
Part of me feels as though I have failed. After so much progress, my novel screeched to a halt last week. And I’d been so busy, that I hadn’t even noticed. Yesterday, I pulled out the NaNoWriMo calendar I’d been using to keep up with my daily word counts, and stared at a blank row, suddenly realizing that I hadn’t written a single thing in the five days since I started the new job.