The First Post Should Have a Clever Title

It's almost 11 O'clock. I'm fully clothed, sitting in bed with my laptop having just started a blog. 'Blog' has always struck me as a word that will, in a few hundred years, be a swear word. 'Wot the blog is goin' on 'ere?' a cockney policeman will yell at miscreants in a dystopian future.

I've done a terrible job of introducing myself to my nonexistent audience. I'm Pixie, I need a pseudonym for publishing, my parents did not actually name me 'Pixie' and I have, metaphorically speaking, recently thrown myself into the abyss. That's what it feels like. Here's my tragic backstory:

I have (tragically) been studying at university for the last year and a half after (tragically) leaving high school a year early. I have been (tragically) unhappy with my chosen degree at university and found myself growing increasingly miserable in all aspects of my life. (Tragically) I recently started writing a novel after not writing very seriously for a very long time. This has caused me to (tragically) make the decision to become a full-time author. Maybe it's a premature decision, and maybe that's why I feel I have thrown myself off a cliff.

My backstory is undoubtedly not the most heart-wrenching narrative ever to grace the blogosphere, but the fact of the matter is I now find myself in strange terrain, rocketing toward "real life" (and I wish there was a way I could make those quotation marks extra bold) angling myself toward a career in writing and (tragically) starting a blog.

I guess the latter half of this post is a bad place to start explaining why I'm starting this blog, but if I told you everything from the get-go there'd be no mystery. I want a place to broadcast my journey, even if no-one listens. I fully intend to update this blog regularly with a combination of my writings, events from my life and writing advice (if I'm feeling cocky).

Maybe the real reason I'm starting a blog is I want to have people watching me fall into this abyss, arms flailing as I hope to catch an outcropping of rock or whatever substance is most meaningful in this metaphor. Perhaps I want to make a spectacle of myself so that even if I fail I will have had an audience. Maybe I want someone along for the ride though, maybe I want someone to fall with me. Frankly I'm not sure what I want in most areas of my life right now. I do know, however, that I want to be an author.

I have six weeks of tertiary study left. After those six weeks I will unceremoniously ask for more shifts at my job so I can pay for an array of courses for hopeful writers. Outside of that I'll be writing as much as I can bear, hoping that the light at the end of the tunnel does not turn out to be a dead-end and a flashlight.