Hello, my name is Peter. Currently, I’m the senior writer and content strategist for an internet marketing agency. I enjoy the work, because I’m good at it. But, I’ve got more to do. I’m writing a book. Fiction. It’s a good story.
That’s right, no creative brief, no supporting material, just me and the collective consciousness frequency tuner that’s called imagination. I’ve managed to push out and save a what would amount to the equivalent of a third of a manuscript. I’ve been working on it steadily for almost two years, chipping away as time permits.
I have a family, a wife, daughter and son, whom I love more than I ever thought capable. They are cool, excellent, and extremely patient and demanding. Working on the story is tricky. I prefer to work when the time spent is not in conflict with spending time with them. To clarify, my daughter is nearly four and my son is just shy of two. To them, the computer is a fascinating way to watch Disney trailers and press buttons. I succumb to guilt if and when I segregate myself to the computer room to write during waking hours. So, I’m left with carving out time after they’ve, wife included, fallen asleep.
126 days remaining.