Time – the most precious of the non-renewables.
Revision stands in abeyance. The characters, at a loss. If the writer doesn’t provide the energy, nothing happens. Characters aren’t real. The writer attempts to make them seem as if they are.
CV: updated with the required adjustments. Changes to the schedule. “Free” time, about to shrink, not only because of twelve additional hours of work per week. I’m looking at twelve hours multiplied by some two hundred and forty children. Whether they’ll learn any English at all beyond naming the colors and saying Hello, my name is… I don’t know. I do know I’ll come home and need a lot of the precious “free” time for nothing other than recharging the batteries. Writing will have to be part of the recharge, or it won’t happen at all.
Do I aspire to teach basic English to 6 to 8-year old children, on the eve of my seventh decade? No. Can I afford to turn down the job, knowing such opportunities won’t show up often, if ever again? No.
So, characters, you and I will have to adjust. Winds change, and so does everything else. Every one of you wishes your life would play more to your liking. You have my deepest sympathy.
For now, in real life, I know there are three delighted school principals to contact this morning. I’m pleased to know they’re pleased. Meanwhile, I have a cast of characters in full dismay. I’m sad for their sake and for mine. We’ll have to recoup, gang. Modify the way your times play, maybe. Or how I deal with your various expectations – and mine.