Today, I go back to work after two blissful weeks of writing and reading and setting my own schedule, or having no schedule at all.
I could sleep or not sleep, eat or not eat, leave the house or live the hermit lifestyle which seems to fit me so well.
In about an hour, though, that all ends. I have to slog out there into the great wide world and be a grownup again, and I ain't happy about it.
3 comments:
Aye. I was between writing gigs for a month and it was difficult to get back into the swing of going to bed in time to get up in time to make the commute to a normal day job. But I just received my first paycheck, and as base as it is, I /do/ love getting paid to write. All else becomes immaterial.
I have survived my first day back to work, and am literally aching as a result. I spend most of my time on my feet.
Yup, getting paid is nice. Very nice. I wish I could get paid for doing only the parts of this job that I love, and letting someone else do the rest.
Getting paid for writing would be nice! Depends on whether or not I can sell my novels, though, or the occasional short story. So far, the only pieces I've been paid for are freelance articles, but I haven't worked at the paper in years.
Well, to be fair, getting paid to write /fiction/ would be superior to what I'm doing now, but I'm not complaining. I like this, too.
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