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In which Rolanni is disconsolate
Nothing to see here. Move on, move on.
Whining .
A couple of things have fallen through the cracks over the last week or so. I managed to catch them -- or at least the ones I saw -- but they got uncomfortably close to Going Bad. In general, I'm not the sort of person who does well with things Going Bad, most especially when it's my fault. It doesn't even matter if anyone else knows that the failure, whatever it is, was my fault. I'd know.
I've often reflected that this is not a particularly useful character trait for someone who has spent much of her life living by her wits, but it would appear that I'm stuck with it.
Now, here's the thing. I'm behind on a lot of stuff I need to be on top of, some of it big, some of it not-so-big. There's that book that's due, for starters; and a pile of data entry that literally comes up to my knee; a whole buncha SRM paperwork that has to get dealt with, added, subtracted, multiplied, vilified, obfuscated, and filed by April 1. I've got stuff to read out loud, a pile of unanswered email dating roughly back to the inception of the internets, and the day-job is ramping up for its very busiest season of the academic year.
Did I mention that I don't operate well in a mess? I want to know where the objects and information under my keeping are; I hateHateHATE to lose things. Or forget them. Or discover a bill on the bottom of the pile I meant to get to last week that I should have paid four days ago and now there's a late charge on top of the embarrassment of having Not Done It Right.
My options seem limited. The day-job buys the health insurance and produces a steady paycheck. Granted, our last royalty payment was more than my annual pay, but -- health insurance good. The day-job stays.
SRM was originally divided into Steve's strengths -- layout, sales, public relations, filling order -- and Sharon's strengths -- bookkeeping, clerical, filling orders, and remembering what's where. Each piece was about a half-time job when we started. SRM has since grown (that's a GOOD thing), meaning that we have more orders, with a person down to fill them, and more paperwork with a person down to process it. Still, SRM pays its portion of the bills, and fulfills a useful function. Clearly, SRM stays.
Writing. By the measuring-stick of my peers, I don't do much, but I'd like to keep on for a few years yet. And I'd very much like to keep on in a state when I'm not distracted to the point where I can't remember if the hero's eyes are blue or green. I'm used to having the luxury of being a wee bit immersed in our stories, which hasn't been possible with all the other distractions.
This is not, of course, a problem unique to me. Lots of writers -- most,in these benighted times -- write around the corners of their lives. I need to figure out how to manage it better, is all. And it looks like 30-hour days aren't available in this month's Life Skills Catalog, either.
I did spend a couple hours this afternoon in the blue chair with ice on the knee. The knee hurts like a sonofagun, for those keeping score at home, and is becoming Quite Spectacular, as the bruises rise. The current book is Hiding the Elephant -- a history of stage magic and magicians. Coincidentally, this week's New Yorker includes a lengthy article about stage magic and magicians.
Whining .
A couple of things have fallen through the cracks over the last week or so. I managed to catch them -- or at least the ones I saw -- but they got uncomfortably close to Going Bad. In general, I'm not the sort of person who does well with things Going Bad, most especially when it's my fault. It doesn't even matter if anyone else knows that the failure, whatever it is, was my fault. I'd know.
I've often reflected that this is not a particularly useful character trait for someone who has spent much of her life living by her wits, but it would appear that I'm stuck with it.
Now, here's the thing. I'm behind on a lot of stuff I need to be on top of, some of it big, some of it not-so-big. There's that book that's due, for starters; and a pile of data entry that literally comes up to my knee; a whole buncha SRM paperwork that has to get dealt with, added, subtracted, multiplied, vilified, obfuscated, and filed by April 1. I've got stuff to read out loud, a pile of unanswered email dating roughly back to the inception of the internets, and the day-job is ramping up for its very busiest season of the academic year.
Did I mention that I don't operate well in a mess? I want to know where the objects and information under my keeping are; I hateHateHATE to lose things. Or forget them. Or discover a bill on the bottom of the pile I meant to get to last week that I should have paid four days ago and now there's a late charge on top of the embarrassment of having Not Done It Right.
My options seem limited. The day-job buys the health insurance and produces a steady paycheck. Granted, our last royalty payment was more than my annual pay, but -- health insurance good. The day-job stays.
SRM was originally divided into Steve's strengths -- layout, sales, public relations, filling order -- and Sharon's strengths -- bookkeeping, clerical, filling orders, and remembering what's where. Each piece was about a half-time job when we started. SRM has since grown (that's a GOOD thing), meaning that we have more orders, with a person down to fill them, and more paperwork with a person down to process it. Still, SRM pays its portion of the bills, and fulfills a useful function. Clearly, SRM stays.
Writing. By the measuring-stick of my peers, I don't do much, but I'd like to keep on for a few years yet. And I'd very much like to keep on in a state when I'm not distracted to the point where I can't remember if the hero's eyes are blue or green. I'm used to having the luxury of being a wee bit immersed in our stories, which hasn't been possible with all the other distractions.
This is not, of course, a problem unique to me. Lots of writers -- most,in these benighted times -- write around the corners of their lives. I need to figure out how to manage it better, is all. And it looks like 30-hour days aren't available in this month's Life Skills Catalog, either.
I did spend a couple hours this afternoon in the blue chair with ice on the knee. The knee hurts like a sonofagun, for those keeping score at home, and is becoming Quite Spectacular, as the bruises rise. The current book is Hiding the Elephant -- a history of stage magic and magicians. Coincidentally, this week's New Yorker includes a lengthy article about stage magic and magicians.