What comes after Chapter 21?
by Christine Wild
Firstly, thank you for following me and reading my rambles for what will now be the fourth year!
I am going to stop at Chapter 21 for now, and the reasons are good! I am not sure what justbadtiming.com will grow into, but I am working on Just Bad Timing, the Book! I realized (thanks to you for the most part) that writing makes me happy and that it interpels the readers (yay!).
I am currently dedicating the begginning of 2017 on finishing a first draft for my (first) memoir. I’m petrified, to tell you the truth. The whole process has been, to say the least, exhilarating. I have had to change my life upside down (again) to make this happen and will be needing loads of help. So if any of you are interested in my process, in my project, in believing in me, you can reach me at firstname.lastname@example.org . I am unsure as to whether I will be looking for an agent or whether I am going to go all in and out myself (which I am told is a very ‘Christine’ thing to do). In any case, if any of you out there care to share your wisdom and your experiences with me, I would be eternally grateful.
Christine’s adventures, as real as they are to me, seem to have been real with you and that was the whole point. I want to share my life and its questions with my lost generation, and perhaps remind us that we are all made of the same cloth. I want to open the conversation on our frustrations, our doubts and the surprises this world has to offer. With this being all in a pen name, I have not shared it the conventional ways. I have not used my network, my social media audience to broaden the spectrum of my readers. This is where I would like to ask you, for the first time, to share, to post, to comment on whatever it is that interested you, that called out to you in whatever I have had to say so far. I would be forever thankful for any push, or any further exposure you could grant me.
I am writing this sitting in a seedy pub, with four other people in it, on a Tuesday night. The snow is falling outside the window as it has been for the last two weeks. I look out and I ponder, as I often do, what’s next for me. What’s the next chapter? Why have I chosen to expatriate myself again, to a huge city, where I know not a single soul. What does a 27 year old do to make friends when she’s not working, nor has any legitimate (aka “in the system”) reason to be where she is? Living outside the box has been more challenging than I even thought it would be, albeit having a solid idea of the mountain of challenges. I’ve had to defend my individuality more than ever before in the recent past, and as hard as it has been, it’s been enlightening. It takes guts. That’s the understatement of the century. This isn’t me complimenting myself either. I mean, it took me two hours of procrastination to dare pack my ipad in my handbag, and head out to this pub. I sat in the corner of course. There were times where I would have sat at the bar. For fuck’s sake, I went to a concert by myself on my third day in Buenos Aires, and ended up on stage. I was eighteen and unafraid. Now, the bar scares me. How crazy is that? Where did this self-awareness suddenly come from? Is it that I now live in a real city, with inhabitants with real problems, a place where I actually have to be a decent human being? Not to diss the South of France, but luxury enables the most unreasonable of behaviours. I have been very torn this past year. I’ve gone from feeling that the riotous behaviour that governed me was the adventure I was seeking, to feeling like a huge coward for the same actions. The little voice in my head vacillating between: “I’m not living up to my potential, wasting my talent away” to “Good on you C, shine bright you crazy diamond.” Why is stopping and soothing oneself not acceptable? I admit that my stopping seemed a lot like speeding up, going into a frenzy and soothing nothing but a hangover, but still. If that’s what I felt I needed. All of this is just to give you an idea as to the thoughts going through my exhausted brain. They say the best art comes from tragedy, or other intense feelings. Being lost, idling, is an intense feeling, I’ve come to realize. Let’s hope the art follows…
Much love from my little healing heart.
You can follow me on Instagram (@justbadtiming.cw), on Medium and on Facebook for sneak peeks and other Christine musings, in the meantime.