Nice Job If You Can Get It
I used to have a real job. This was maybe 10 years ago. A job of the nine-to-five variety. Only I rarely got there before 9:30. But then I worked through lunch. Somehow, I was always the woman putting her makeup on in traffic. I missed being able to take a nap if I wanted. I hated having to work nine-to-five when I am often most productive at 6:00 a.m. and then again around 9:00 at night.
So today, I sat down to work on one of my two ongoing books. I sit in a big comfy chair, and I listen to music. Today it was Django Reinhart. I had my monster mug of coffee. The mug was a gift from writer Trish Cook.
So I opened one file. Wrote a bit of my third Billie Quinn book, due out early next year. Then I realized my heart, today, was for a thriller I am working on, so I opened that file. Was in some kind of zone and nailed a scene thanks to feedback from my writers' group (without which my writing would perish). When baby #4 woke up, I took the afternoon off. I spent some of the time surfing the 'net for information on hermit crabs, due to child #2 and #3 getting a pair for Christmas. That's its own story. I may even have to blog about it. These are NOT easy pets. They may look like simple crabs in shells, but suffice it to say, they would have been better off with pet tarantulas. Anyway, this novelist thing meant I COULD spend time finding out about hermit crabs and listening to Django.
And so though there are times, when I am under deadline and getting no sleep, OD-ing on coffee, not showering (it really does get ugly), when this gig as a novelist feels . . . unsteady, intense, and crazy. But this is absolutely the best job in the world. It's still unsteady, crazy, and intense . . . but it's also utterly cool. Who gets to sit around and make stuff up for a living?
It's the best job in the world.
And I don't ever have to leave my comfy chair to do it.
So today, I sat down to work on one of my two ongoing books. I sit in a big comfy chair, and I listen to music. Today it was Django Reinhart. I had my monster mug of coffee. The mug was a gift from writer Trish Cook.
So I opened one file. Wrote a bit of my third Billie Quinn book, due out early next year. Then I realized my heart, today, was for a thriller I am working on, so I opened that file. Was in some kind of zone and nailed a scene thanks to feedback from my writers' group (without which my writing would perish). When baby #4 woke up, I took the afternoon off. I spent some of the time surfing the 'net for information on hermit crabs, due to child #2 and #3 getting a pair for Christmas. That's its own story. I may even have to blog about it. These are NOT easy pets. They may look like simple crabs in shells, but suffice it to say, they would have been better off with pet tarantulas. Anyway, this novelist thing meant I COULD spend time finding out about hermit crabs and listening to Django.
And so though there are times, when I am under deadline and getting no sleep, OD-ing on coffee, not showering (it really does get ugly), when this gig as a novelist feels . . . unsteady, intense, and crazy. But this is absolutely the best job in the world. It's still unsteady, crazy, and intense . . . but it's also utterly cool. Who gets to sit around and make stuff up for a living?
It's the best job in the world.
And I don't ever have to leave my comfy chair to do it.
posted by Erica Orloff at 11:21 PM
3 Comments:
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Are the hermit crabs okay? I have two pugs, one that is still threatening us with legal action for bringing an unauthorized human baby in to the house. The other is allergic to juniper trees, crab grass, beef and dog dander. Yup. Dog dander.
Mary:
We have their salt water, their fresh water, their sand just the way they like it, a house for them, a fake palm tree, a spritzer . . . and alas . . . Chrissy the hermit crab has passed away and I think Chomps is headed for Hermit Heaven. Had I known they were such a tough pet, I would have opted for . . . nearly anything else.
OK . . . a pug allergic to dander. Now what sort of madness is that? LOL
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