I'm working again this month.
Like, for other people.
And even though it's great because it's childcare and kids are awesome, I gotta say... I don't know how y'all do it.
I mean, it's been over two years since I had a "job," and after all that time of working entirely for myself -- and working entirely on being creative and making stuff and being more creative -- it just seems nuts to me that there are now days when I only get three or even (gasp!) two hours to work on my novels and screenplays and suchlike.
I try to ameliorate that monstrous reality by getting up between four-thirty and five most mornings to spend a few hours banging away at the keys before my kid gets up or I have to go off to work, but it's just not enough.
Time is zipping by, and I am dying, here.
Every single day, I get one day closer to being dead.
And even though I'm aware that all the stuff I make is going to crumble to dust and be forgotten anyways, well... I've still got stuff to make, dangit!
I suppose I could sacrifice significant relationships, hermit myself away in a hole somewhere, and still get a fair bit done. But I've tried that before, and ultimately what happens is I end up in the corner in a fetal position, wishing a bear would barge in and eat my head. So 2-3 hours it is, for now.
Next month, though, my schedule precludes working for someone else (film festivals to attend, and a visit to Massachusetts to visit a Massachusettsian). So no job-for-Josh in November.
I still need money, though. So by sometime early next month, I'm going to have had released (take that, grammar nazis!) not one, but TWO new books: a novel, and a collection-of-art.
Loosen those purse strings!
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