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For a writer to feel guilty about taking the time to write is certain death. Or, it is if you allow it to get to you. That's my problem on a daily basis, no matter what else I'm doing, there's something else I should be doing instead. I don't have a regular job so, qed, I am wasting space.
Last night, before our Burning Wheel game by Skype, I said that I had recently realized that I have large sections of my day with UNDEFINED stamped on them in big letters, which isn't to say that I don't attempt to put them to use, but I don't have anything I'm required to slot into them. I could, if I were so disposed, take the painstaking effort I've already bent to the service of various WoD gaming and attempt to formulate a pitch.
Today, I got a text message from Katie saying that everyone had been called into a meeting with the staff at the dental office. Little puts the chill of fear into your heart quite like an unscheduled, mass office meeting. This morning, we were looking over our finances and, while things will be fine, this upcoming week things are going to be a little tight. We both know that we can't afford to be a no-income household even for another month. I've been looking for work, but I've been more selective in my searching. It's been invaluable, recently, to have someone who's home all day with us having to handle problems with plumbing, vet appointments, helping our neighbor with her pets, and our bio-hazard of a crawlspace, so Katie hasn't exactly been clamoring for me to find work immediately. Since much of the immediate troubles are over, my UNDEFINED sections of my days have been growing, and my guilt regarding writing as an investment of my time had been lessening.
The terror of the idea of suddenly being without the income that had just started to become reliable kind of barreled me right the fuck over. Writing this is mostly kind of giving shape to that fear and letting myself try to formulate a game plan and allow me to continue writing.
For the time being, I'm going to stay focused and finish what I'm currently working on, and then I'm going to pick my next one.
Last night, before our Burning Wheel game by Skype, I said that I had recently realized that I have large sections of my day with UNDEFINED stamped on them in big letters, which isn't to say that I don't attempt to put them to use, but I don't have anything I'm required to slot into them. I could, if I were so disposed, take the painstaking effort I've already bent to the service of various WoD gaming and attempt to formulate a pitch.
Today, I got a text message from Katie saying that everyone had been called into a meeting with the staff at the dental office. Little puts the chill of fear into your heart quite like an unscheduled, mass office meeting. This morning, we were looking over our finances and, while things will be fine, this upcoming week things are going to be a little tight. We both know that we can't afford to be a no-income household even for another month. I've been looking for work, but I've been more selective in my searching. It's been invaluable, recently, to have someone who's home all day with us having to handle problems with plumbing, vet appointments, helping our neighbor with her pets, and our bio-hazard of a crawlspace, so Katie hasn't exactly been clamoring for me to find work immediately. Since much of the immediate troubles are over, my UNDEFINED sections of my days have been growing, and my guilt regarding writing as an investment of my time had been lessening.
The terror of the idea of suddenly being without the income that had just started to become reliable kind of barreled me right the fuck over. Writing this is mostly kind of giving shape to that fear and letting myself try to formulate a game plan and allow me to continue writing.
For the time being, I'm going to stay focused and finish what I'm currently working on, and then I'm going to pick my next one.