I have a few minutes to write before I’m expected at my carriage driving lesson, so I figured I’d take the time to “write between the cracks” as it were. Yesterday I spent a couple of hours sorting through my Writing folder on my hard drive. I tend to feel like I’m a seriously underachieving writer. I often wish I was one of those people who felt compelled to write all the time. Someone who found it so cathartic that it was like an addiction. Instead, I’m a slow writer, I’m prone starting things I never finish or writing things that really have no end that anyone would recognize. I rather like blogging for this reason. It can follow any course I like.
What surprised me about cleaning up my writing folder was how much stuff I actually have written, even if it doesn’t all have formal structure. Add to that the knowledge that this folder is a fraction of what I’ve written over the last ten or 15 years (due to data loss) and I do feel a bit better about myself as a writer. In fact, I then spent time thinking about how much non-work writing is probably sitting on, as a random example, my sister’s computer, and I realized I’m probably doing OK. I may not live forever and I don’t have kids, but at least my nieces will having something to know me by when they are old (barring cool nano tech life extension that will keep me kicking ass until I’m 200). I figure even if I am still kicking around in 60 years I’ll probably have other things to talk about (like why people keep serving me creamed peas and jello).
I’ve got an actual set of work papers that I ought to working on, except that it takes more focus than half an hour allows. This is a set of 7 papers for a product that I worked with professionally for years. It is also my first freelance writing gig (which is amazing since I wasn’t even looking for one). It doesn’t pay great but they will be published on very well known site within the profession and I’m looking forward to having 1)something recent on my resume and 2) a writing gig that might help me get more writing gigs. Really, writing is a great career for me since I can do it on my schedule, at home, and without having to see people I grow to dislike with searing intensity. On the other hand I have real issues with making myself do things. Even things I like. As soon as I feel I *have* to do things I suddenly find a million other things to do. So I’ll have to pretty much wrestle this demon to the ground, tie the fucker up, and lock it in the cellar if I want to do much paid writing. At least I’m working on it.
