I’m in an economic pickle once more. The money I once had has gone to frivolous things like… food. And emergencies. And bills.
I have one sixth of the moolah I should have on hand and there’s no sign of improvement at any time in the future.
The air conditioning in my office is dead. The dishwasher is dead. Our home securicams are on the blink and I have no idea when that’s going to get kicked back into action. My car needs a service and Mayhem is taking driving lessons.
I don’t got a lot of spare cashola lying around for a while.
So… in a desperate effort to generate that, I’m focussing more on my current writing. Because the content that rewards overwhelms the content that doesn’t get much in the way of a response.
I had to take a weekend, last time, just to de-stress. Not that it’s done much good. I’m waking up at fuckoff in the morning again. And even though I have little enough time for myself, I’m pondering the logistical cost-benefit analysis of starting a Podcast in which I read things. Mostly my most popular stories.
And I know, intellectually, that that’s more time working for less benefit than ever before. But all I have is my writing and nobody’s buying it already.
What do you do when your one saleable skill is unprofitable?
So I have to re-spec. I have to sit back and re-organise my shit so that I don’t wind up doing my op-ed here about my life and how miserable I am because – who wants to read that? I have to think about everything I’m doing and work on what needs to be done. As well as find time for the things I want to do because self-reward keeps a person sane.
AND I have to juggle that with Mayhem’s need to get to places because he’s learning to drive and boundless enthusiasm is no match for actual experience points. My little lad has picked up some horrible habits and that needs to get squashed more than a little before he winds up wrapping a vehicle around a tree.
I think I have too many stress points in my life at the moment. And I’m trying to figure out how to play the KerPlunk version of removing them without causing everything to fall down. And I keep thinking that I can’t give a single task to anyone else because anxiety.
There’s also the fallacy that if I tell anyone, I’ll just get their problems to solve as well.
We need less cost. We need more income. We need, we need, we need…
And it feels like I’m the only one who cares about this noise.
I need to get my summary done so I can fling my book at one last agent before it is revealed that I have wasted $400 on a list worth nothing. Preferably before said agent decides to quit taking submissions.
I need to keep my schedule with my current novel because if I stop, I stop for good and all this time and effort is for naught.
I need to keep writing my Instants because that, my friends, is free advertising.
I need to make this start paying the bills.
And I need help. Because this is increasingly feeling like I can’t do this on my own.