This is a story I wrote about the different types of lunch – those you loathe and love, those you endure and those you relish. it’s partially a story about the corporate grind and part a story of my love of food and cooking.
The rumbling began dull and low, then spun back on itself to a gurgle, before finally resting after a final deep sound that must be what a full stop would sound like if it had a sound. Frank was determined not to look up from his laptop to acknowledge the unsettlingly loud noise that signalled to his entire pod in the open plan office that he had waited far too long to go for his lunch break. Some of his colleagues noticed it, but others were plugged into their headphones and probably wouldn’t have heard the fire alarm if it went off. One that did was Frank’s office confidant, Ashley, who came over to his desk and said, “spare us all your pleas of ignorance Frank and go get something to eat – it’s way past lunchtime and I know that email can wait.”
I’ve been writing for myself since I was young, but aside from this blog which I do as a hobby, I’ve completed one novel (though honestly it needs more editing) which I submitted to the Wilbur and Niso Smith adventure writing prize (shortlist in link) and I’ve submitted one other piece to Asimov magazine. I neither got shortlisted for the award of had my submission accepted.
No big deal, I honestly didn’t expect either to be a screaming or immediate success.
What has somewhat surprised me is my lack of pessimism about this. If I had tried and failed 10 years ago then I probably would have packed it in altogether and focused on my current career fully and completely…or at least other things.
That’s not how I’m feeling though. I want to put more energy in. I want to refine and improve my writing and put more ideas down on the page.
Maybe I’ll never make it something I can subsist off of, though I can hopefully get something published and I can definitely enjoy myself while doing it. I’m not convinced the pure aim of life, of writing is to simply enjoy what you’re doing. It does feel like a good starting point though, if the business of survival is in order.
So, here’s to my writing hobby. Long may it continue.
The winds whipped up against the wooden sailboat, cruising it along the dark shore. Cleopatra stood aft alongside her steersman while a young girl crouched in the bow looking for signs of rocks in the dark. They used no lamps so as not to give away their position to the residents of the shoreline.
Some would be considered friends of a sort, but too many would report them to one of their numerous enemies. The annoyance of having to engage in a skirmish during this particular mission wasn’t worth it, though the crew and her captain typically relished any fight.