So here I am. Noon on a Monday, papers all around and no one but myself for company. I finally feel like a writer. Can I get myself together and act like one?
I quit my job. It's not entirely as scary as that sounds, as I'm going to graduate school in the fall. But for two and a half months I have no employment that I don't find for myself. Freelance articles, freelance press releases. And writing, writing, writing.
The first day's going well. I spent the morning contacting authors for a story I'm writing for the magazine I just left. But this whole "manage your own time" thing is a lot more terrifying than I thought it would be. All my writing assigments for this week have formed an unsettling miasma of anxiety. They swirl around, vague and indeterminate, until one pops out clear and focused to scare me a little more: Bridal Blog entry! Lost Writers assignment! HarperCollins press release! And bridesmaid dress shopping with my sister for two whole days.
How will I find the time to just sit in the park in the sunshine? How will I get to the yarn store for cones of cashmere? How will I work on Secrets & Spies (Wedding Widow's sequel) or Katie Malloy's Last Con? How will I get myself to the Library for all the research I need to do on Napoleonic spies and contemporary conmen?
One day at a time. One page at a time. Okay, back to work.
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4 comments:
You can do it! I'm going to stop being lame (or busy) and call you tonight. Find nice dresses, please.
You can do it! I have great faith in you... and since I'm doing the same thing this summer (plus writing curriculum) we will have to keep each other on task.
As long as you're home, please clean my apartment.
This just in: the flitgirl is shaming me with her productivity.
The shame! The shame! Must get off internet and work on novel...
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