Facebook is great for a lot of things, including stimulating political debate. But one thing it can also do is piss people off. Especially when you're an outspoken, straight-talking Irish tomboy lass like me who grew up to be a professional writer. I've pissed some people off online with my straightforward, open, no-nonsense style of late. They weren't people who were necessarily important to my real life, though in some cases they were old friends I hadn't seen in years but had renewed correspondence with. Others were people I didn't really know well personally (though I'd met them, at least) but whom I'd grown fond of online. Then, one day I make one of my trademark blunt-as-a-dull razor statements (which they should have grown accustomed to by that point---indeed, many people actually become friends with me in the first place because they like this personal trait of mine) and poof! Gone.
I got all hot and bothered and anxious by that over the weekend, since in one case in particular the people in question really went after me personally (one thing I always try to make a point not to do whenever/wherever possible, even when I'm at my bluntest). But after the edge wore off, I decided that I just can't continue to let that sort of thing bother me. Here's some reasons why.
1) I am not going to censor myself just to please you. While this doesn't mean I'm going to go around spewing obscenities like a Tourette's victim, don't expect me to "shut up and behave like a lady," as one person choicely put it to me last week. I've always been more comfortable talking with men than women because I don't do the whole passive-aggressive/overly emotional thing very well. This is who I am. Get used to it.
2) And pursuant to No. 1, people who spew overemotional hot air with no rhetorical substance (usually women, though I've seen men do it too) do not tend to get along with me, so be forewarned.
3) I am hard-wired this way. I have been an upfront, straightforward, straight-talking broad since I was at least 2 years old, or so my parents tell me. I don't have the "off" switch in my brain that most people do. Some might say that's a psychological defect of some kind, but even if it is, I've managed to make a pretty lucrative profession out it. If I think something needs to be said, sooner or later it is going to fall out of my mouth (or my pen). So telling me that I need to learn tact is not usually a good piece of advice for me to follow. You might as well tell a blind person to get glasses.
4) I always think honesty is the best policy. Again, I'm hard-wired this way. Lies make me physically ill, unless I'm writing fiction. I think the whole reason I became a writer was because it was the only way my brain could process the natural human tendency for lying. (This is probably because I was always severely punished for "making up stories" as a young child, as young children are often wont to do.) So if you want to know if that dress makes you look fat, but you are really just looking for an ego boost, you should probably ask someone else.
5) I have more self-awareness than a lot of people, and that's not necessarily a good thing. If I censor myself (or even show restraint), my conscience often makes me feel guilty for being dishonest. Not only that, I spend a lot of time evaluating my faults and looking for ways to improve upon them, though I don't always succeed. (In other words, I beat myself up a lot, I set very high standards for myself, and I'm never satisfied.) As if that weren't hard enough, I also expect other people to adhere to my high standards, and of course they usually don't, so I'm frequently disappointed, and I frequently say so. Loudly.
6) Aren't you glad you aren't me? The neurotic writer who lives alone in a garrett is a cliche. But the scary part is, it's also true. I'm a neurotic writer who spends 10-12 hours a day working in an attic and not talking to anyone. You'd be a little "off" in the head if you were me, too.
Peace.
Monday, August 1, 2011
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Patience
So much about writing for a living involves patience. Lots of it. First off, it takes a great deal of mental discipline, concentration, and self-control in order to write. You have to shut out all distractions (not easy these days!), stay focused on a narrative throughline (in the case of fiction) or a topic (in the case of nonfiction or journalism). You even have to be "on" when you aren't writing, filtering through all the random thoughts and ideas that pop into your brain when you're housecleaning, or out jogging, or driving your car---and then keep track of which ideas are usable and which are not, and which can be filed away for possible future use. And if you're a features journalist like I am, you also have to "keep your finger on the pulse of America," as my editors like to say, so I can pitch them my monthly story topics that are timely and of interest to my publications' readership. Not an easy task, for sure.
But that's just the tip of the iceberg. Even when your writing is complete, you often spend a lot of time just waiting around. Waiting for interview subjects to return calls or to approve their quotes. Waiting for your editor to reply to your latest email. Waiting for your agent to get back to you on all those submissions she made to big publishing houses in the positively glacial world of New York publishing. Waiting for that quarterly royalty check. Waiting, waiting, waiting. And then more waiting.
I think the main reason most people who aspire to be professional writers simply don't have what it takes is a lack of patience. It often takes years and years of work, study, and self-defeating rejection just to get published, after all. And even after you've "made it," the waiting and the need for humility and reams of patience never really stops---if anything, it just gets worse. That's why when random half-committed (if that) people waltz up to me and say they want to do what I do for a living, I tell them, "No you don't. Go out and sell real estate, or get a job as a secretary or something. Don't do this." They usually give me a dirty look and walk away. But they always seem to take my advice, at least when it comes to getting a job.
Peace.
But that's just the tip of the iceberg. Even when your writing is complete, you often spend a lot of time just waiting around. Waiting for interview subjects to return calls or to approve their quotes. Waiting for your editor to reply to your latest email. Waiting for your agent to get back to you on all those submissions she made to big publishing houses in the positively glacial world of New York publishing. Waiting for that quarterly royalty check. Waiting, waiting, waiting. And then more waiting.
I think the main reason most people who aspire to be professional writers simply don't have what it takes is a lack of patience. It often takes years and years of work, study, and self-defeating rejection just to get published, after all. And even after you've "made it," the waiting and the need for humility and reams of patience never really stops---if anything, it just gets worse. That's why when random half-committed (if that) people waltz up to me and say they want to do what I do for a living, I tell them, "No you don't. Go out and sell real estate, or get a job as a secretary or something. Don't do this." They usually give me a dirty look and walk away. But they always seem to take my advice, at least when it comes to getting a job.
Peace.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Falling In
Last night I took one of my now-rare forays into the city of Chicago (where I spent the better part of my 20s and early 30s living) for a theater benefit performance gala that also included a rare Chicago performance of my most-frequently produced stage play, "The Devil Is In The Details." (Because of some of the odd peculiarities of the Chicago theater world, which I won't discuss here but I've blogged about in the past, I long ago stopped pursuing productions in Chicago in favor of more high-profile---and paying---play productions in New York City, Los Angeles, and nationally). I don't do this often for a whole host of reasons, let alone on a weeknight, but I did it not only to see my play on its feet, but also because I'm a longtime member of the producing organization, Chicago Writers Bloc, a playwrights' collective.
One of the great things about Chicago Writers Bloc versus some of the other playwrights' organizations in town (who shall remain nameless, ahem), is that most of the members actually make their living solely by writing (me included). We have several current and former (retired) Chicago Tribune and Sun-Times reporters/editors, people who've written/published upwards of 30 books, people who make/write successful documentary films and TV shows, people who've had their plays produced all over the country. The one thing we all seem to have in common is the Chicago theater "establishment," which tends to be very actor-driven, wants nothing to do with us. (Which doesn't seem to hurt our careers as writers, but whatever.) There were several very respected Chicago-area journalists and columnists there last night, and I got to shoot the breeze with them and "talk shop" about what it means to make a living as a writer in this town.
One of the cool things that happened was, I got to talk to one of my fellow Chicago Writers Bloc playwrights, Kenan Heise, at length about his life as a reporter, then editor, at the Tribune during the 60s, 70s, and 80s, as well as his time in the trenches of the 1960s civil rights movement. I knew of course that he'd done all of those things (he's retired from journalism now, though he still writes/publishes books and is now moving into playwriting), but I had never really talked to him about it. He shared some wonderful anecdotes of his old days at the Trib, but he also shared this interesting tidbit----he had absolutely no formal training or education as a journalist. As a matter of fact, he'd spent the better part of his 20s and early 30s as a Franciscan monk under solemn vows, living in a monastery not far from where I grew up in Cincinnati, Ohio!
Wow! You could have knocked me over with a feather when he told me that. He said that due to his epilepsy and a disagreement with his father superior, he'd been made to leave his order. He got involved in the civil rights movement in the 60s, then eventually "fell into" news reporting at the Tribune. I told him about how I'd also just sort of "fallen in" to being a freelancer lifestyle reporter in the 90s for the Tribune's then-new online Metromix section, also with no formal journalism training, only a useless graduate degree in media studies/critical theory from University of Chicago and an undergraduate degree in literature. And yet, I make a full-time living as a journalist now, something that has become next-to-impossible to achieve, if all the out-of-work reporters I know are any example.
Kenan replied, "Of course you did. All the best reporters out there 'fall into' journalism. Journalism school is a waste of time." He went on to tell me that he has frequently been called in to address students at Northwestern's prestigious Medill School of Journalism, and he always told them, "If you want to make it in this business, break the rules."
Well, from a guy who got kicked out of the Franciscan Order, rode freedom buses and got beat up in the 60s, then went on to have a rich journalism career after doing graduate studies in Latin, I think he knows there's a lot of truth to that. So do I.
Peace.
One of the great things about Chicago Writers Bloc versus some of the other playwrights' organizations in town (who shall remain nameless, ahem), is that most of the members actually make their living solely by writing (me included). We have several current and former (retired) Chicago Tribune and Sun-Times reporters/editors, people who've written/published upwards of 30 books, people who make/write successful documentary films and TV shows, people who've had their plays produced all over the country. The one thing we all seem to have in common is the Chicago theater "establishment," which tends to be very actor-driven, wants nothing to do with us. (Which doesn't seem to hurt our careers as writers, but whatever.) There were several very respected Chicago-area journalists and columnists there last night, and I got to shoot the breeze with them and "talk shop" about what it means to make a living as a writer in this town.
One of the cool things that happened was, I got to talk to one of my fellow Chicago Writers Bloc playwrights, Kenan Heise, at length about his life as a reporter, then editor, at the Tribune during the 60s, 70s, and 80s, as well as his time in the trenches of the 1960s civil rights movement. I knew of course that he'd done all of those things (he's retired from journalism now, though he still writes/publishes books and is now moving into playwriting), but I had never really talked to him about it. He shared some wonderful anecdotes of his old days at the Trib, but he also shared this interesting tidbit----he had absolutely no formal training or education as a journalist. As a matter of fact, he'd spent the better part of his 20s and early 30s as a Franciscan monk under solemn vows, living in a monastery not far from where I grew up in Cincinnati, Ohio!
Wow! You could have knocked me over with a feather when he told me that. He said that due to his epilepsy and a disagreement with his father superior, he'd been made to leave his order. He got involved in the civil rights movement in the 60s, then eventually "fell into" news reporting at the Tribune. I told him about how I'd also just sort of "fallen in" to being a freelancer lifestyle reporter in the 90s for the Tribune's then-new online Metromix section, also with no formal journalism training, only a useless graduate degree in media studies/critical theory from University of Chicago and an undergraduate degree in literature. And yet, I make a full-time living as a journalist now, something that has become next-to-impossible to achieve, if all the out-of-work reporters I know are any example.
Kenan replied, "Of course you did. All the best reporters out there 'fall into' journalism. Journalism school is a waste of time." He went on to tell me that he has frequently been called in to address students at Northwestern's prestigious Medill School of Journalism, and he always told them, "If you want to make it in this business, break the rules."
Well, from a guy who got kicked out of the Franciscan Order, rode freedom buses and got beat up in the 60s, then went on to have a rich journalism career after doing graduate studies in Latin, I think he knows there's a lot of truth to that. So do I.
Peace.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Deadlines
One of the realities of being a professional writer is deadlines. When you're a full-time freelancer like me, your ability to get paid centers on your ability to deliver usable quality work by a deadline. I am self-employed, providing clients with a valuable service (i.e., my writing). I am assigned article topics to deliver (I also pitch my own topics to editors) by a set deadline. If I don't do it, I don't get paid. It's that simple.
One reason that many people like to work a cushy job with a regular salary is they get paid whether their work gets done or not. I know this from experience. When I worked in the corporate world, oftentimes my own work was dependent on a whole bunch of other people who seemed to have trouble with deadlines. If they didn't get their work to me, I couldn't make my own deadlines. (Funny thing, a lot of the people who didn't make deadlines and also seemed to do no work in general often outranked me in both job title and salary; that kind of bullshit is one major reason why I prefer to be a sole proprietor).
I have tried to explain to people (i.e., aspiring writers, my three-year-old son, my mom, my husband, ad nauseum) that when I am on deadline, PEOPLE CANNOT BOTHER ME. My mother is especially talented about calling me up and wanting to chat for hours when I'm on multiple article deadlines. Her usual response when I tell her I'm too busy to talk is, "But you work at home! You can do whatever you want!" I have long since tired of explaining to her why I can't talk to her when I'm on deadline, and use caller ID just to screen my calls and not answer them.
People, if I don't make deadline, I DON'T GET PAID. Period. It's that simple. This is why I get irritated with people who think that just because I'm a freelancer who works out of my house that I can just screw around and do whatever I want all day. Some days when I'm not on deadline I do have a lot of freedom and control over my own time (which is one reason I'm self-employed) but not when I'm on deadline.
Also, I do self-impose a lot of my own deadlines, such as when I'm writing fiction. I tell myself that I have to finish that novel by Day X, and I do it. Self-discipline is necessary in this business. That's why I call bullshit whenever people tell me that they "don't have time" to finish that novel they've had sitting in a drawer for five years. They DO have the time---but they don't have the self-discipline to set themselves a deadline and meet it. We all have the same number of hours in the day everybody else does, it's all about how we choose to use them.
I think that we might solve a lot of the world's problems by forcing everyone to work the way I do. If you don't do your job, you don't get paid. What a concept. How many people out there would be totally screwed if that's how the world worked? I can name several hundred right off the top of my head.
Peace.
One reason that many people like to work a cushy job with a regular salary is they get paid whether their work gets done or not. I know this from experience. When I worked in the corporate world, oftentimes my own work was dependent on a whole bunch of other people who seemed to have trouble with deadlines. If they didn't get their work to me, I couldn't make my own deadlines. (Funny thing, a lot of the people who didn't make deadlines and also seemed to do no work in general often outranked me in both job title and salary; that kind of bullshit is one major reason why I prefer to be a sole proprietor).
I have tried to explain to people (i.e., aspiring writers, my three-year-old son, my mom, my husband, ad nauseum) that when I am on deadline, PEOPLE CANNOT BOTHER ME. My mother is especially talented about calling me up and wanting to chat for hours when I'm on multiple article deadlines. Her usual response when I tell her I'm too busy to talk is, "But you work at home! You can do whatever you want!" I have long since tired of explaining to her why I can't talk to her when I'm on deadline, and use caller ID just to screen my calls and not answer them.
People, if I don't make deadline, I DON'T GET PAID. Period. It's that simple. This is why I get irritated with people who think that just because I'm a freelancer who works out of my house that I can just screw around and do whatever I want all day. Some days when I'm not on deadline I do have a lot of freedom and control over my own time (which is one reason I'm self-employed) but not when I'm on deadline.
Also, I do self-impose a lot of my own deadlines, such as when I'm writing fiction. I tell myself that I have to finish that novel by Day X, and I do it. Self-discipline is necessary in this business. That's why I call bullshit whenever people tell me that they "don't have time" to finish that novel they've had sitting in a drawer for five years. They DO have the time---but they don't have the self-discipline to set themselves a deadline and meet it. We all have the same number of hours in the day everybody else does, it's all about how we choose to use them.
I think that we might solve a lot of the world's problems by forcing everyone to work the way I do. If you don't do your job, you don't get paid. What a concept. How many people out there would be totally screwed if that's how the world worked? I can name several hundred right off the top of my head.
Peace.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Fantasy Island, Part Deux
You probably remember my last post about people having the strange notion that writers/editors can and should work for free. I'd like to add another post about the strange fantasy world people seem to live in regarding my line of work.
Case in point: a week or so ago a friend of a friend whom I hadn't previously met came to my home to pick up some silk I had purchased for her friend when I was in China recently. (The person I actually bought it for couldn't pick it up herself, so she sent this friend of hers to do it since her friend was in the neighborhood.) She was a nice older lady who knew a lot about fabric and sewing, and had at one time worked in the fabric retail industry, so we struck up an interesting conversation about sewing, which was kind of fun. She also helped me with the formidable task of dividing up 40 yards of silk into 4 equal 10-yard pieces.
While we were visiting, she asked me about what it was like to write for a living. (our mutual friend had filled her in on my profession). I gave her a 2-minute rundown of what I do and how I do it. She then asked, "Do you need to hire a proofreader? Because I do that."
I just shrugged and said, "Well, I do that too." I don't generally proofread professionally anymore because the pay is too low to make it worthwhile when I can make more money writing, but I have done it for pay. But I do proof my own work religiously, and then once I've handed over a clean copy of it to my clients and/or publishers, they all have their own in-house editors/proofers who do the same before publishing it. When I explained this to her, she frowned. "Wow, that's not how it was back when I worked in publishing at all."
I pressed her for details, and it turned out she had spent some time working in the magazine industry about 35 years ago, back in the days when everything was done by hand on paper (and "cut and paste" literally meant get scissors and glue). She had worked as a manual proofreader and typesetter in those days. I politely explained that neither of those things are done manually anymore.
"So it's all done on computers now?" she asked. I nodded. "I remember when computers first came out in the 80s," she said. "I didn't want anything to do with them then, and I don't want anything to do with them now. But my husband died recently and I need a job, do you know where I can get work as a proofreader? I do everything the old-fashioned way, with a pen and paper. I take my time, too."
"Uh huh," I said. "Well, if you actually need to make a living, I would highly recommend you take some computer classes and then look in the online job classifieds for something."
She just stared at me. "Oh, I don't want to do that," she said. "I thought that if maybe I can't find a job as a proofreader, I'll go into business reading people's auras." (Seriously, no joke. She said this. With a straight face.)
I wished her luck and sent her on her merry way.
Peace.
Case in point: a week or so ago a friend of a friend whom I hadn't previously met came to my home to pick up some silk I had purchased for her friend when I was in China recently. (The person I actually bought it for couldn't pick it up herself, so she sent this friend of hers to do it since her friend was in the neighborhood.) She was a nice older lady who knew a lot about fabric and sewing, and had at one time worked in the fabric retail industry, so we struck up an interesting conversation about sewing, which was kind of fun. She also helped me with the formidable task of dividing up 40 yards of silk into 4 equal 10-yard pieces.
While we were visiting, she asked me about what it was like to write for a living. (our mutual friend had filled her in on my profession). I gave her a 2-minute rundown of what I do and how I do it. She then asked, "Do you need to hire a proofreader? Because I do that."
I just shrugged and said, "Well, I do that too." I don't generally proofread professionally anymore because the pay is too low to make it worthwhile when I can make more money writing, but I have done it for pay. But I do proof my own work religiously, and then once I've handed over a clean copy of it to my clients and/or publishers, they all have their own in-house editors/proofers who do the same before publishing it. When I explained this to her, she frowned. "Wow, that's not how it was back when I worked in publishing at all."
I pressed her for details, and it turned out she had spent some time working in the magazine industry about 35 years ago, back in the days when everything was done by hand on paper (and "cut and paste" literally meant get scissors and glue). She had worked as a manual proofreader and typesetter in those days. I politely explained that neither of those things are done manually anymore.
"So it's all done on computers now?" she asked. I nodded. "I remember when computers first came out in the 80s," she said. "I didn't want anything to do with them then, and I don't want anything to do with them now. But my husband died recently and I need a job, do you know where I can get work as a proofreader? I do everything the old-fashioned way, with a pen and paper. I take my time, too."
"Uh huh," I said. "Well, if you actually need to make a living, I would highly recommend you take some computer classes and then look in the online job classifieds for something."
She just stared at me. "Oh, I don't want to do that," she said. "I thought that if maybe I can't find a job as a proofreader, I'll go into business reading people's auras." (Seriously, no joke. She said this. With a straight face.)
I wished her luck and sent her on her merry way.
Peace.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Fantasy Island
I had a Facebook exchange about this today, thought it might make sense to blog about it.
It never ceases to amaze me how many people think that professional writers/editors should just work for free (or next to free). (I'm not alone in that sentiment, even big-name pros like Harlan Ellison frequently gripe about repeatedly being asked to work for free: check out this video to see what I mean). Just this morning I opened six different emails asking me to write stuff and/or edit stuff FOR NOTHING, and/or were complaints that rates I had quoted them for my professional services were too high.
Well, excuse me for fucking living, but I'm a professional writer, with a helluva lot of serious publishing creds, not to mention almost 20 years' experience being paid to write, either as a freelancer or an editorial staffer. I did not just fall off a turnip truck yesterday and hang out a shingle asking people to pay me to type and/or spew hot air. I have been published in major newspapers (Chicago Tribune, Washington Post, I could go on), have hobnobbed with high-level government bureaucrats, have published multiple books, have written speeches for CEOs, ad nauseum. If you want me to work for you, PAY ME.
Just because there are a bunch of clueless amateurs out there willing to give away their very questionable writing "services" for free does not mean that I should too. Just because you can hire some flunky in a Pakistani word-churning/plagiarism mill three cents an hour to fuck up your already unpublishable work (and make it even more unpublishable and/or illegal) doesn't mean that I should also charge only three cents an hour to do an actual professional, quality job. You wouldn't expect the guy ringing up your groceries or the nurse taking care of you in the hospital to work for free, so why should I?
And while I'm on the subject, before you decide that it's cool to criticize me for my choice of publisher/agent/tax accountant/level of writing income, perhaps it would be somewhat intelligent of you to first have some idea what you are talking about. (i.e., like maybe being able to claim you are a full-time writer earning at least $75,000 a year from writing, like I do). Just saying.
I am a professional freelancer who owns/runs a small business. I contribute to the American economy. I'm lucky to do so, and most (i.e., 95%) of the people who try to do what I do professionally will fail. But that's really not my problem. I'm a businesswoman, and I'm not running a bleeping charity. So don't ask me to work for free. And while you're at it, why don't you get off Fantasy Island and join the rest of us in the real world?
That is all.
Peace.
It never ceases to amaze me how many people think that professional writers/editors should just work for free (or next to free). (I'm not alone in that sentiment, even big-name pros like Harlan Ellison frequently gripe about repeatedly being asked to work for free: check out this video to see what I mean). Just this morning I opened six different emails asking me to write stuff and/or edit stuff FOR NOTHING, and/or were complaints that rates I had quoted them for my professional services were too high.
Well, excuse me for fucking living, but I'm a professional writer, with a helluva lot of serious publishing creds, not to mention almost 20 years' experience being paid to write, either as a freelancer or an editorial staffer. I did not just fall off a turnip truck yesterday and hang out a shingle asking people to pay me to type and/or spew hot air. I have been published in major newspapers (Chicago Tribune, Washington Post, I could go on), have hobnobbed with high-level government bureaucrats, have published multiple books, have written speeches for CEOs, ad nauseum. If you want me to work for you, PAY ME.
Just because there are a bunch of clueless amateurs out there willing to give away their very questionable writing "services" for free does not mean that I should too. Just because you can hire some flunky in a Pakistani word-churning/plagiarism mill three cents an hour to fuck up your already unpublishable work (and make it even more unpublishable and/or illegal) doesn't mean that I should also charge only three cents an hour to do an actual professional, quality job. You wouldn't expect the guy ringing up your groceries or the nurse taking care of you in the hospital to work for free, so why should I?
And while I'm on the subject, before you decide that it's cool to criticize me for my choice of publisher/agent/tax accountant/level of writing income, perhaps it would be somewhat intelligent of you to first have some idea what you are talking about. (i.e., like maybe being able to claim you are a full-time writer earning at least $75,000 a year from writing, like I do). Just saying.
I am a professional freelancer who owns/runs a small business. I contribute to the American economy. I'm lucky to do so, and most (i.e., 95%) of the people who try to do what I do professionally will fail. But that's really not my problem. I'm a businesswoman, and I'm not running a bleeping charity. So don't ask me to work for free. And while you're at it, why don't you get off Fantasy Island and join the rest of us in the real world?
That is all.
Peace.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Housekeeping
Okay, so I've been away for a while. Sue me. The month of March was insane work-wise (I wrote 20-plus freelance articles for four different publications, including the Washington Post), then the first two weeks of April were equally insane as I tried to pack a full month's worth of writing work into half the time, since I was travelling overseas for the second half of April. On top of all of that, I finished writing a novel and sent it to my agent, as well as cared for a sick child and hubby, packed for a trip to SE Asia, did housework, yadayadayada.
The writer's life is never easy, but when you're doing it for a living (which is basically running a small business) and also running a household/parenting, little things like blog posts tend to fall by the wayside. Those of you who follow me on Facebook know I do some microblogging there, but it can't replace a longer, well-thought-out post. Which is not really what this is, but I digress.
Whenever you get back from an extended trip overseas, there's always lots of housekeeping to do when you get back. Like mowing the lawn, going through all the mail that's piled up, returning phone calls, etc. Except when you're self-employed like I am, it goes double. Plus there's that pesky little thing called jet lag, which is brutal when you're coming back from Asia. So I'm just now getting back on my feet, having caught up on my accumulated list of chores---such as updating my website, returning emails to my editors, alerting interviewees that the articles I wrote about them are live, cleaning up my dark pit of a house, unpacking 16 suitcases (okay, I'm exaggerating a bit, it was only 5 suitcases, it just seems like 16), catching up on bills, trying to figure out where some of my royalty payments went, etc.
It's very nice earning a full-time living as a journalist now, but it is sending the fiction writing (which I still get paid for, just not as much) to the back burner a bit.
Just before I left, I got my authors' copies of my latest novel release in the mail. It's slowly trickling into bookstores, and one of these days when I get a free minute I need to book some signings at my local Barnes & Noble locations. Two of them have already agreed to let me do signings at their respective stores, I just haven't found the time to call the store managers back to get on their event calendar. I'll do it eventually. I just need to remember where the phone is. (I think it's under a giant pile of laundry.)
The writer's life is never easy, but when you're doing it for a living (which is basically running a small business) and also running a household/parenting, little things like blog posts tend to fall by the wayside. Those of you who follow me on Facebook know I do some microblogging there, but it can't replace a longer, well-thought-out post. Which is not really what this is, but I digress.
Whenever you get back from an extended trip overseas, there's always lots of housekeeping to do when you get back. Like mowing the lawn, going through all the mail that's piled up, returning phone calls, etc. Except when you're self-employed like I am, it goes double. Plus there's that pesky little thing called jet lag, which is brutal when you're coming back from Asia. So I'm just now getting back on my feet, having caught up on my accumulated list of chores---such as updating my website, returning emails to my editors, alerting interviewees that the articles I wrote about them are live, cleaning up my dark pit of a house, unpacking 16 suitcases (okay, I'm exaggerating a bit, it was only 5 suitcases, it just seems like 16), catching up on bills, trying to figure out where some of my royalty payments went, etc.
It's very nice earning a full-time living as a journalist now, but it is sending the fiction writing (which I still get paid for, just not as much) to the back burner a bit.
Just before I left, I got my authors' copies of my latest novel release in the mail. It's slowly trickling into bookstores, and one of these days when I get a free minute I need to book some signings at my local Barnes & Noble locations. Two of them have already agreed to let me do signings at their respective stores, I just haven't found the time to call the store managers back to get on their event calendar. I'll do it eventually. I just need to remember where the phone is. (I think it's under a giant pile of laundry.)
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