Paying the Bills & an Emerging Author
One of the toughest things I have had to do (outside of raising my children) is continue to work my 40 hour a week job while doing my utmost to promote my first book and finish my second book. Top that with all the regular daily things that go into running a house and raising two boys and it would not be an exaggeration to say that I feel as if I'm working three jobs!
I find myself turning my lunch break at work into bill pay and coupon clipping time - not to mention catching up on the pile of mail that I keep setting to the side at home each night because I'm too exhausted to deal with it.
Of course, I have to admit that despite working on my writing at home some nights and weekends, I have, on occasion, stayed a bit later at work to take advantage of the quiet in order to finish a story or at least part of one. Namely because once I get home it's all about making dinner, cleaning up, homework, and hanging out with my guys (which is extremely important to me).
It would be great if becoming a successful writer was just about creating the stories that people are interested in reading. (At least, I hope what I'm creating is interesting to others, since I couldn't stop this flow if I tried and most of it is just plain off-kilter.) However, the marketing aspect is another job all on its own and that can be quite a handful. I try to spread things out and hit all the "have-to" items in small bursts - no point in burning myself out.
Despite all the work, hassles, effort, marketing, reviews, etc. etc. ad infinitum, there are always the stories. They slink in quietly when I least expect them or sometimes drop right in front of my face like Little Miss Muffet's spider. Either way, however they find their way to me, they are persistent. The demand to be told. They form themselves around my brain and daily activities giving me glimpses and tantalizing me with their twists and turns until I can't help but let them out in print. "Away with the world that seems and open the one in which I show you!" They cry. And I do. Every time. Usually with a mischievous smile and a dark glint in my eyes - at least that's how I picture myself in full thrall of the story.
I find myself turning my lunch break at work into bill pay and coupon clipping time - not to mention catching up on the pile of mail that I keep setting to the side at home each night because I'm too exhausted to deal with it.
Of course, I have to admit that despite working on my writing at home some nights and weekends, I have, on occasion, stayed a bit later at work to take advantage of the quiet in order to finish a story or at least part of one. Namely because once I get home it's all about making dinner, cleaning up, homework, and hanging out with my guys (which is extremely important to me).
It would be great if becoming a successful writer was just about creating the stories that people are interested in reading. (At least, I hope what I'm creating is interesting to others, since I couldn't stop this flow if I tried and most of it is just plain off-kilter.) However, the marketing aspect is another job all on its own and that can be quite a handful. I try to spread things out and hit all the "have-to" items in small bursts - no point in burning myself out.
Despite all the work, hassles, effort, marketing, reviews, etc. etc. ad infinitum, there are always the stories. They slink in quietly when I least expect them or sometimes drop right in front of my face like Little Miss Muffet's spider. Either way, however they find their way to me, they are persistent. The demand to be told. They form themselves around my brain and daily activities giving me glimpses and tantalizing me with their twists and turns until I can't help but let them out in print. "Away with the world that seems and open the one in which I show you!" They cry. And I do. Every time. Usually with a mischievous smile and a dark glint in my eyes - at least that's how I picture myself in full thrall of the story.
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