Not Shortlisted

I wasn’t even shortlisted for the supervisor job.

My line manager rang with the news last week. It came down to the fact that I lack supervisory experience. I was pretty devastated. I’d worked at least dozen hours of unpaid overtime to keep up with all the extra work piled on me in the absence of a supervisor. Relief staff might have provided an extra pair of hands, but I still felt like I’d been in it alone. If I hadn’t picked up the slack, then the library would have gone pot, and I wasn’t willing to let that happen after all the hard work the previous supervisor and I had put in drag the library into submission the year before.

But I’d failed anyway. It wasn’t fair.

When the candidates were interviewed and the new supervisor appointed, I expected to have to deal with jealousy—possibly even suffocating levels of it. I’d wanted this job so badly, after all.

Strangely, however, all I felt was immense relief.

I realised that I’ve been so distracted with everything that’s been going on at the library that I forgot about the things that matter most. Like my writing life. I haven’t felt like myself at all for the last few weeks. I’ve struggled to start books I’ve been desperate to read, and everything I wrote for SOULBOUND came out wrong.

Of course I was relieved. Not getting the job—and the extra responsibility that goes along with it—meant that I could get back to working toward my goal of being published.

I love my job, please don’t get me wrong. But that’s all it is at the end of the day—a job, a means to an end. I don’t want to work in libraries forever. I want to be a published author.

At the end of all this, I’m actually glad I didn’t get the supervisor job now. I lost sight of what I truly wanted for what I thought I wanted at the time.

But I see clearer than ever now, and know what I need to do.

Write.

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