A door closes, and another one opens

At the end of last year I decided I would most likely leave my job.
I'd been there five and a half years, which is long enough. I'd never ever been in one place that long, ever. I was ready for a change.
What precipitated this bold move was the opportunity for redundancy due to a work restructure; I'd basically lost my job and would be expected to apply for something new anyway, and voluntary redundancy was an option.
In fact, it was a golden opportunity. I could get stuck into my writing as I ecked out the redundancy payments, and when that ran out and I needed an income, assuming the writing 
wasn't paying off which is always the risk, I'd just get a job doing something else. Anything else. The opportunity was too good to let pass by, and the timing was brilliant. In fact, the whole plan was utterly brilliant and surely, surely, it was meant to be.
So I got stuck in, in joyful anticipation of my new life.  I made plans. There were spreadsheets and financial plans and time-management plans and deadlines for all this amazing work I was going to produce, and there was even, golly gosh, a huge overhaul of my inept Inbox and disorganised mess of folders and documents on the laptop.  I even postponed doing a couple of papers for my theology degree because I needed to spend the time getting the writing-ship in order. 
Friends - it  was such a good plan.
So when I got a phone call one night to say that I hadn't got redundancy, I could not believe what I was hearing.
Stunned silence was the phrase, as I thanked the bearer of this bad news, hung up the phone (old fashioned phone with a curly cord, people) and thought... what the hell just happened?
This was freaking unbelievable.
I had a plan.
When my colleagues found out, some suggested that they, the powers who had turned down my redundancy application, must value me and want to keep me on.
Screw valueing me and wanting to keep me on.
I was not flattered by that at all.
Because I had a bloody good plan. 
I had a new life as full-time writer waiting for me.
This was just so freaking unbelievable.
So I had to re-think all this. I had to start thinking about jobs to apply for in the new restructure since my one wouldn't exist, and there was no redundancy payment forthcoming.
One day, my boss told me of one of the brand new jobs I really should apply for.
It was a higher grade which meant a higher salary. It was also full-time.
Full time? Who did they think they were talking to? The reason I live with people who pay rent is so I don't have to work full time. 
I had no desire to be a slave to 8.30 to 5.00, five days a week. 
I decided to apply for a job, but not that one. I would get a part-time position, and focus on the writing a bit, and make the best of a hugely gutting situation.
But one weekend, away down in my beloved rural New Zealand, I pondered this some  more.
Maybe my superiors at work really did want me to consider applying for this job.  Maybe they did think I had something to offer. Maybe, I thought, I should at least not dismiss it without ponderation (legit word by the way, just looked it up) and, let's face it, there's nothing like actually earning a decent income which writing had not provided. Besides which, the job was good.
By the time I arrived back home, I had a change of heart.
I would apply for that job and I would make no more plans. I would delete the spreadsheets and the deadlines, and take serious heed of James in the Bible:  Look here, you people who say, “Today or tomorrow we are going to such and such a town, stay there a year, and open up a profitable business.”  How do you know what is going to happen tomorrow?
James, brother, I hear you, for clearly I did not know what was going to happen tomorrow. So I applied for the job. 
I got offered the job
And I accepted the job. 
Crikey.
What it means is that my writing may go on hold as I adjust to this new opportunity.
Life surprises at times; doors really do open after one door closes and apparently, in most surprising ways.
To that end, please keep an eye on my Facebook or Twitter for details of some free book promotions coming up over the next week and with a bit of luck as time goes on,  words may be written or edited-- if I am still psychologically and physically sound at actually being a grown up and working a proper week like the rest of the world.
Joanne

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