When people ask about my job, and I foolishly reveal that "I'm a writer," I've learned to respond to follow-up questions with "It's not romantic."
That doesn't describe the half of it.
Being a freelance writer for a living is (for most of us) choosing to make "feast or famine" a regular, ongoing part of your existence. When there's work, you better take it, even if you think your plate's already full, because you can't predict when you’ll get your next job. And when there's not enough work... well, there's this little town called London in west central Texas you can move to...
If you've been following along, you know that I left my rocky savannah idyll and came back to Swamp City to catch a gravy train. The things we'll do to feed and clothe ourselves and our dependents, huh? And now, a week shy of my second month in the city, I'm already back to treading water as fast as I can, doing what I gotta do. When hunger's a part of your history -- and you wanna keep it neatly tucked right back there -- you'll bite off as much as you can chew when the bone is dangled. And if you bite off more than that, be prepared to choke a little or spit it out.
If there's one thing I know for sure (and there ain't much, so take what I got), it's that the other shoe WILL drop. It's not a question of if but when. The trick is seeing those harsh possibilities clearly and with a sense of wonder and amusement, not resignation or foreboding.
It's a hell of a trick.
All I have to do is think about the super-sized task pile on my plate, due in the next eight weeks, and my blood pressure goes up. So what do I do? I heap on a little more. The pile's now topped by a couple of books about being more like Buddha. Really.
One's called "Just One Thing: Developing a Buddha Brain One Simple Practice at a Time" by Rick Hanson, and the other is "Shortcuts to Inner Peace: 70 Simple Paths to Everyday Serenity" by Ashley Davis Bush. Neither is out yet -- they're both being published after my task pile should be cleared. My plan: Use whatever these galleys got in 'em in hopes of keepin’ my craw clear enough to get down what I bit off. And be found sane when it's all said and done. So you might not see the reviews until later. Much later. Like, holiday shopping time, maybe.
It's a damned good thing I found this at the store last night:
Comments