The important thing is to keep hammering away at this, no matter what. Today, I am close to missing my deadline. I normally have these things done at least several hours beforehand, but today I got into my editing and lost track of time.
I successfully scheduled a total of $1,480 worth of editing jobs starting today and ending on the 4th of January. That is a novella and two novels’ worth of editing.
Before, I was editing simply to exist. I did not want for much, so I didn’t worry about overloading myself. I liked to relax and hang out. Now that a child is on the way, however, I’m afraid I can’t relax, at least for the next few years. I have to go go go.
I’m fine with it, at least for the moment. I realize that in the future I may burn out and need some time to recoup, but at the moment I’m enthused by my ability to source income that quickly. It is *doable*, although I’m not sure how the work will be through the coming downturn in the economy, or after the slew of NaNoWriMo writers peters off. The summer is always pretty slow.
Then again, I never really *tried* to actively look for jobs in the summer. I let what come my way, come my way. I used to even *deny* jobs if I didn’t like the sample. No more of that nonsense. I have to take everything. I have to accumulate capital.
If it was just me and Rios, I probably wouldn’t care so much. A tiny creature changes everything, though.
You know, for a while there, in the depths of a panic, I considered dropping all of this and going to trade school to become an electrician. That career has always appealed to me, because I’m fascinated with currents and wiring and power. Then I realized it would require six years of apprenticeship and, well, I don’t have that kind of time.
Over the past seven or so years I have slowly built myself into what I am today: an editor. I didn’t even realize I was doing it. Now that I have the background, however, it’s a bit too late to start it all over again. And I’m not bummed about it. I like working on books.
But still: it’s locked in. Lots of things are locked in. Weird feeling, it is, like being strapped into a rollercoaster before it takes off. I’d been standing in line for nearly a decade, and now that the safety belts are clicked in and I’m gripping the metal handles, I don’t have time to yell. I can’t stop everyone else’s fun just because it looks steep.
Time to take the ride.