I Could Have Made It All The Way To Broadmoor
“You could have had a career in Forensic Psychology. You gave up studying to write this? You were so promising. You wanted to go to Broadmoor”.
I went for a cup of tea with my old university tutor last week, from my stint of going back to studying when I was 31. He wanted to use a paper I had written a few years ago for one of his classes this term and needed me to sign it off for him. As we caught up, he asked me how everything was going. Which hospital was I working in? How was the studying going? What had I decided to specialize in?
I told him about the decision I made in April this year. The decision was, should I continue on the path to becoming Dr. Kibbles, Forensic Psychologist, or should I write comedy full time.
He looked at me like I had two heads.
It’s mainly down to the cost and the time you see. I’d be 41 and in a shitload of debt by the time I became a Doctor. Forensic Psychology isn’t an easy subject to study and work in. Some of the placements you get put on are pretty harrowing and murderers, rapists and young offenders have threatened me on more than one occasion. It’s not for the faint hearted and it wears you down, mentally and physically.
I had also been writing along side studying. Bits of web copy here and there, countless radio plays and editing scripts for stand up comics. Writing blogs for other people’s websites, which they were taking all the accolades for, writing accounts of real crimes for newspapers under a pen name and ghost writing for reality TV stars. Writing a blog on livejournal for ten years (which is still out there if you dig, but I must warn you, it’s dark comedy – very different to what I write now), traveling the world and blogging about it on the way.
Writing, writing, writing and being too scared to put my real name to it. Being a ghost.
One thing had to go and it was the idea of becoming Dr. Kibbles.
So I created this thing. This blog which isn’t a blog, which has kind of snowballed.
“You gave up your dreams to become a Mummy blogger”. He almost spat the words out at me.
It’s not a Mummy Blog.
It’s not. Unless someone wants to nominate me for a Mumsnet award, then, yes, it is.
I sometimes write about parenting, and yes, that has so far got me a lot of recognition, but I don’t see it as that. I don’t know what I see it as yet, it’s only been live Since May. I have only started putting my real name to things since August.
“It’s not a Mummy blog, would you like to read some of it” I said.
That’s the last time I will ever show my writing to a Psychiatrist.
“See, I still might end up in Broadmoor, but as a patient” I joked.
“You were promising”.
I was promising, I always have been if you forget about the disastrous time at school. I would have joined the Police when I was young, gone into forensics, but I didn’t have any support.
And I thought I was funny, so messing about drinking and writing a sketch show and doing stand up seemed a better route.
And now I am in my mid 30’s and I am doing it all again.