Memory

I got an e-mail today that's got me brooding again. About the past. About a lot of things.

"Please tell me you remember this," the note said. Oh, I remember. I remember more than I should, if I were to be honest. It's as though I preserved every single moment and I just keep replaying and replaying ... like a tape that keeps flipping over. And over. And over.

I don't want to forget. I don't want to be the only one who remembers, either. I don't want time to keep passing, taking me further away and piling so many weighty days on my shoulders. It tamps down the ache. But I find myself fighting the nostalgia -- I don't want my memory to be soft and blurry around the edges. I want it sharp, raw, immediate.

Conservative Ideology Contradicts Self Again (and Again, and Again ...)

An interesting contradiction struck me at 2 am, when, frustrated by insomnia, I retreated to my office to tire myself out writing and cruising the Web.

Warning: sweeping generalization ahead.

The same folks that are so rabidly anti-immigrant (right wing, conservative xenophobes who want to build a wall, make English the national language and complain that undocumented immigrants are stealing 'their' jobs) are often the same shouting at the top of their lungs against government regulation and industry in favor of letting the free market do its thing. Invisible hand, yadda yadda. Can we agree on that? Okay.

But it makes no logical fucking sense whatsoever. Because that's what the free market does; rewards those who will work longer, harder hours for less.

If you can't hack it in a free market, sorry about your luck, shitbags. You can't have it both ways -- you want the government to protect your jobs by keeping out "the competition," but you don't want them to have any influence over the market? So, basically you only want the government involved in your life when it benefits you to the exclusion of others who are Not Like You.

It reminds me of a post I saw on Facebook a few weeks ago discussing the snopes.com confirmation of this Letter to the Editor which appeared in a Mississippi newspaper.

In the letter, an ER doctor complains bitterly about a patient's lifestyle choices and questions why he should have to "pay for the care of the careless."

Because that's freedom, asshole. You can't espouse freedom and liberty for all, and then decide that certain human beings don't deserve it because they choose differently than you would. Oh, well, I guess you could ... if you were more interested in making judgements about a human beings' value based on their race, gender, sex, religion, sexual orientation ...

Change of Scenery

My life as a writer really isn't that interesting. Truth be told, the rest of my life outside writing isn't that interesting, either. But lately I've been drafting more eloquent stories about my Life in General than about my profession, so I'm damn well gonna write about it here. Stay tuned.

Now What?

I haven't been writing much. Yeah, I said that in my last post, but this time it's not of my own volition. I finished my outstanding work for other clients, so now all I have in front of me this week is my once-a-week standing assignment for my Careers client.

Easy-peasy.

Now what?

I need to start prospecting for other clients. That I can do this week. And I have a couple pitches I've been mulling over in my head that I might try to shop around to some 'mainstream' publications, just to see what happens.

And then, there's the Writer's Curse. At least, that's what I call it -- the absolute certainty that I have a New York Times bestselling novel inside me just waiting to flow from my fingers, get picked up by a major publisher and sell a couple hundred thousand copies. I've been thinking about this for awhile. The premise is the story of a family by turns torn apart and brought together by mental illness, violence, betrayal and ultimately, redemption.

Sounds intriguing, yeah? I'm far enough away from it now that I can see it more clearly, and the emotions are not as raw as they used to be. Maybe I can do this. I know how to put together a book proposal. I have some contacts at various houses that could be useful. It could even be -- dare I say it? -- fun.

Freedom's Just Another Word for Nothin' Left to Lose

I'm a writer who hasn't been writing much. Not here, not really anywhere. Of course, there's a long and involved backstory.

First of all, though Mr. Savant and I were legally and officially married last December, our wedding -- complete with ivory dress, bridesmaids, and an open-bar reception -- was held over July 4th weekend. So, needless to say, I'd been distracted pulling together the last minute details of that whole shebang.

Second, on June 19th, I fractured my left foot in two places (another long story) and have been immobilized and doped up on the loveliness of narcotic painkillers.

And third, but definitely not least, as of July 1, I no longer count Mr. Big as one of my clients. On June 29th, I got an email from Mr. Big's subordinate, my editor, stating the need to renegotiate my month-to-month contract. The terms of the proposed new contract basically amounted to twice the work, half the money, penalties if I did not deliver more than 1,000 words a day, and thus the complete elimination of any extra available time to work on projects for other clients.

So, I declined to renew my contract. The liberation and the happiness I feel because of this decision are ... I can't even put it into words. It's pretty fucking blissful, and that's not just the Vicodin talking.

I've reached out to a number of other contacts and have lined up a decent amount of work thus far, so I'm not quite as fearful as I used to be.

The problem is that I've been so excited in my freedom that I've taken to slacking off. Slacking off a hell of a lot. I've written a few pieces; lined up some additional projects over the next couple weeks, but mostly I've been cleaning my house, reading, watching HGTV and The Discovery Channel, and taking naps whenever I damn well feel like it.

The first two days I convinced myself that I was preoccupied with last-minute wedding plans. Last week I begged exhaustion from the whirlwind that was my wedding, the reception, and our micro-honeymoon in Cape May, NJ for two days. This week ... this week I have no excuse at all. I've just been lazy.

It's 11 pm on Wednesday night, and I haven't written a word all week -- at least not a word I get paid for. I did an interview today for a project, and I've lined up some more interviews for tomorrow. But I have deadlines fast approaching and no serious motivation to meet them.

I know this is my rebellious, immature self fighting against my own best interests. And I know, vaguely, that my mind needs to reset itself and 'heal' from the hell that was working for Mr. Big. But at some point, I have to put my foot down and just get on with it! I hope that point comes soon ...

Cutting Your Losses

I'm struggling with a decision--do I dump Mr. Big, my major client, my main source of income?

My reasoning: Mr. Big is my biggest client and is also my most difficult. I'm on a month-to-month contract. I am not a full-time employee. Yet I'm expected to maintain the same level of 24/7/365 availability, carry an incredibly heavy workload and contribute to strategy and planning sessions as though I were.

None of this is in my contract. And while Mr. Big continues to cut staff, has mandated that all full-time employees accept a 10 percent pay cut and take one unpaid furlough day every two weeks, I'm supposed to carry on joyfully, optimistic about the future. Layoffs continue, advertising revenue is rapidly shrinking, traffic to the sites is ebbing. This ship is going down like the Titanic.

I worked out the numbers the other day, and I'm supposed to deliver this for around $200 per story. I average about 600 words per story, which comes out to about $0.34 per word. That's paltry. I do have other clients that pay just slightly more, but they also treat me well. They understand that I am, for all intents and purposes, a mercenary. They are respectful of my time and my other clients and they appreciate my skills.

So, I'm seriously considering ditching Mr. Big as a client. The amount of stress, worry and despair it's causing me mentally, not to mention the time I spend daily working on pieces isn't worth the money. At what point do you stop bailing water out of a sinking ship and start swimming?

But then I get scared. What will I do without that income? What if I can't find enough other clients to make up for that? I've told myself in the past that I'd put up with this until the bitter end, until Mr. Big decides to get rid of me. But I am just not sure anymore how long I can hold on. But to voluntarily throw those checks overboard ... is that sheer madness? Or will it save me from insanity?

I'll have a slight cushion if I do so. Mr. Big pays invoices 45 days after I bill, which means I get paid for work I did two months ago.

I'm really torn, and I'm waiting for the last thread connecting me to Mr. Big to fray further and just ... snap.

Busy as a Bee

I've been incredibly busy. This is a good thing. I haven't been getting paid in a timely fashion, which is decidedly NOT a good thing.

I recently was offered new work from my employment site client that, on top of the average $600 a month I bill them, would amount to my billing an additional $2,000 month. Hells yeah. I'll take it.

I finished a big project for Major Technology Firm, which they said they loved. And yet, I've haven't gotten paid for the last two pieces I wrote for them, which they also said they loved.

Up to this point, I've had steady work that was easy to bill and simple to keep track of. Now, with more clients, more overlapping projects and new opportunities popping up, I need a system, a software program, something to help me keep track of when I billed whom, when I was paid, if I were paid, etc.

Tomorrow I'll write my requisite 500 words and then I'll get to nagging non-paying clients to find out where my damn money is. And then I have to make some calls to confirm vendors and plans for our wedding, which is in 26 days.

Mr. Savant is headed to the West coast for a business trip tomorrow through Friday, and it will be nice to have some extended alone time. I say that now knowing that by Tuesday night I'll miss him terribly.

Now, I have to go to bed and try to get some sleep.