It's now mid November. I asked my husband at the beginning of the year if I could please have this year to work as a freelance writer, and hold off getting that job. After all we had just moved back to New Zealand and he was starting a new job and we didn't know how much travelling he would have to do.

He said yes.

So, I have worked as hard as I could all year long, but it has not been enough. I did not expect to get rich, but I had hoped to achieve twice the income I have. Many markets simply never respond to submissions, and markets that looked promising vanished.

I am, however, satisfied at the publishing credits I have amassed (parenting magazines, pet magazines, newspapers--both in New Zealand and overseas--and publication in local magazines).

I had my year. I am grateful.

Next year? I am hopeful that I can get a night job in a bakery (I love making bread) here in Christchurch. It is something that I know I would enjoy

It will be a whole new world, back to paid employment, but it will also be a relief in many ways.

I am still hopeful that my novels will be published, and I have no intention of stopping writing. I'll just have less time to write, that's all.

I know that I can never stop writing, it's a part of who and what I am, but it's time to move on.

I have until the end of December or possibly the end of January, after the children go back to school, before I need to seriously start begging for a job.

Until then, I know that life can change in a moment. I have no fears and no regrets.