To snitch (and alter) an old pilot's phrase, "any day you walk away from is a good one."
Well, I've almost walked away from today. It wasn't good.
Some of it was, I must admit. I wrote 2278 words for a client today, and I don't think the article's all that bad. That means all I have to do this weekend is rewrite the same piece for the other magazine -- with some substantial changes -- and grind out another 1000 words for another client.
It's a damn good thing I got most of the words pecked out before the mail showed up. No checks.
Frankly, that buggered my attitude completely, and it was all I could do to go through the piece and clean up some garbled syntax, replace a few fifty-cent words with the two-dollar variety, and ship the whole mess off to the editor.
I don't want to suffer for my art. I know some people think creativity is worth whatever it costs you in terms of a secure, halfway decent personal life, but those who say that usually have a steady income, and all the good stuff that goes with it, like a house with their name on the deed, a fridge full of food, and someone to share their life with.
Having done without those things for longer than I care to recall, I can tell you it's all bullcrap.
In my next life, I hope I'm an accountant. They make good dough, and get opposite-sex action more often than I do.
So tonight, it's just me and Mr J Beam once again....
15 hours ago