Happy New Year Friends, Romans and Countrymen, lend me your eyes, just for a second.
Hope your break was a good one, but now the year is up and running and so am I.
Here’s an excerpt of a piece I wrote for Inner City Ideas Cartel, which is a co-working space in Cape Town. Sorry scratch that, it’s a very sexy co-working space in Cape Town. They have all the bells, whistles, inspiration and good coffee you could want in an office.
Now that I’m freelancing, it’s nice to have an officy-type place to head off to some days when there is work to be done, and this place is the shiz nit, as you’ll see from their pics.
So they asked me to write a blog post on why I chose to become a writer, and hire myself, so here’s an excerpt:
Because I was never going to be a rocket scientist.
People often ask why I chose to be a writer.But it wasn’t like that. You know those raggedy-ass stray cats with mange, and their ribcages sticking out, who pitch up on your doorstep one rainy night and decide they’re going to be your owner and then you’re stuck with them for life, but in a good way? Well for me it was kind of like that. Writing chose me more than I chose it.I don’t have the figure to be a stripper. I’m scared of heights so I couldn’t be an astronaut, and if you saw me you’d know why I couldn’t be a ballerina.
I also wasn’t particularly good at school. Maths was always a mystery to me. Sometimes in class there would be a split-second where I felt like I got theorems or quadrangles or fractions, a flash of understanding, but it was always as permanent as a flickering florescent bulb. To this day, I still don’t know my times tables.