Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
I hadn’t even thought about that. “I don’t think so. I just have all these ideas that I want to put down on paper. The last few weeks I’ve read a few books on story structure and I’ve been reading more.” I scratch the back of my head. “That’s the other thing. The last decade I’ve spent in medicine, I haven’t had space in my head to think about all this stuff. Yes, I’ve written here and there, but only when I feel like if I don’t, I’ll end up in an asylum. I’ve never had any real time. It’s like when you’re a doctor, it’s impossible to be anything other than a doctor, do you know what I mean?”
A flash of disappointment crosses Nathan’s face. Guilt floods my gut and I groan.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m being an insensitive arsehole.”
He shakes his head. “Really, I’m over it. I’m richer than all of you anyway.” He flashes me a grin. “I’m just fucking sad for you, mate. I had no idea you felt like this.”
“You see? Not so perfect, am I? I’ve been sleepwalking through a career I don’t want for the last decade.”
“I agree. That’s far too long to be spending your life doing something you don’t want to do. You need to start putting things right.”
I roll my eyes. Easier said than done. “What, you want me to pretend I’m going full-time private practice and resign from the hospital?”
Nathan looks at me like I’ve got the brain the size of a cotton swab. “No, I think you should write a book.”
“I just told you, medicine requires every part of you. I don’t have—”
“So give medicine up.” He says it like he’s handing me a gold medal and I should be grateful.
“Just like that,” I challenge.
“Yes, Zach. Just like that. You’re clearly not happy and it’s not like you’d be resigning just to lie on the sofa and listen to Coldplay while wanking off ten times a day. You have a plan. You know what you want to do.”
Before I get to ask him where the Coldplay-and-wanking thing came from, I’m aware of the voices in the kitchen and the clip-clop of heels on the hallway floor. Madison sticks her head around the door.
“Is everything okay?” she asks.
“Give us a minute, will you?” Nathan asks. “Make an excuse. We need a chat.”
I sigh. We needed more than a minute.
“I don’t have a plan,” I say as Madison turns around. “I have some ideas and I’m sort of halfway through something. The last few Thursdays and Fridays, I’ve reserved my mornings to write, and I can’t get the words down fast enough. And I love it.”
“That’s enough of a plan. Resign from your job. Give notice on your lease on Wimpole Street. Give writing a try.”
“And then what? I figure out I can’t write and I go back to work with my tail between my legs.”
“Absolutely not. You shouldn’t ever go back to medicine if it’s making you as miserable as it sounds. You’ll just have to think of something else if writing doesn’t work out—but it will. You’ve never been bad at anything in your life.” Nathan pauses and tilts his head like he’s thinking. “Apart from maybe squash.”
“I lost one game,” I reply. I know the day he’s thinking about.
“You didn’t just lose the game. You lost control of your arms and legs.” Nathan has a smirk, an expression he’s had since birth that can cut your confidence in half in a second, and he’s using it now.
“I was a junior doctor and I’d been on shift for thirty-six hours.” I groan at the memory. The hours aren’t as long now, but the way medicine demands your soul hasn’t changed.
“If you want to be a writer, you’ll make it happen. It’s who you are. But you’ve got to take this opportunity. If you continue the way you have been, you won’t ever come up for air again. Take this chance before it’s too late.”
“But what if I hate writing when I get the chance to do it every day?” So far, I love it, but if I had to make a living out of it, that might change. “Worse, what happens if no one likes what I write?”
“Let that be tomorrow’s problem. Worst-case scenario, we’re pregnant. You can be the kid’s manny.”
A surge of energy spreads through my body. “Madison’s pregnant?”
Nathan tries and fails to cover the grin. “We’re going to tell you lot tonight. We called Mum and Dad earlier.”
I pull my brother into a hug. “This is amazing. I’m going to be an uncle.”
“Don’t let on I told you. Pretend you’re surprised when we tell you later.”
“Of course. I can’t believe you’re the first of us that’s going to be a dad. Mum and Dad are going to love this. Might go halfway to making up for their disappointment about me if they find out.”