Headache
Husband should be back from yoga any minute now. I have a headache. Today was too productive and the pain in my skull probably has to do with the fact that I'm working on edits of my new client's novel. When the lady who gave me the job called to confirm the amount of money I'll be making, I still didn't believe her.
If only I could do fiction editing full-time. Really. It's not as easy as it sounds, however, since it requires entering a state of intense concentration, knowing that every second of that hour is someone's money. It's an awesome responsibility and a huge commitment and I hope that I don't let the guy down.
Update:
Okay, I was interrupted by the arrival of le husband. We just ran out of gas. In typical fashion, the leaky connection downstairs by the canister was left unfixed, even though someone complained of the link but didn't do anything about it.
Leaky gas connections are not my province, just like broken light bulbs and general home DIY. I cook, wash the dishes, do the laundry, pick up dog shit, make the bed (sometimes), feed the animals ... If we had rugrats, that would most likely be added to my portfolio.
So, now le wife is on strike until le husband sorts out the gas. Plain and simple. If it doesn't happen, we're going to live off wraps, pizza and cold salad until it is fixed.
Joy.
I'm tired, my novel is going at just over 29 500 words and I'll unfortunately be spending the majority of my time for the next three to four months editing five consecutive werewolf novels for my client, so my plans to finish the first draft of Camdeboo Nights may have to be put on hold.
Money is money and I won't say no to an opportunity to make it doing something that I enjoy and that I know I'm good at. Although, please, guys, DON'T throw any subjunctive clauses at me. I know I passed that grammar course last year but I couldn't be bothered to find out what the hell a subjunctive clause is. I just know when it sounds all right, okay? Or, rather, I'm too tired to care at this point.
*smiles sheepishly*
If only I could do fiction editing full-time. Really. It's not as easy as it sounds, however, since it requires entering a state of intense concentration, knowing that every second of that hour is someone's money. It's an awesome responsibility and a huge commitment and I hope that I don't let the guy down.
Update:
Okay, I was interrupted by the arrival of le husband. We just ran out of gas. In typical fashion, the leaky connection downstairs by the canister was left unfixed, even though someone complained of the link but didn't do anything about it.
Leaky gas connections are not my province, just like broken light bulbs and general home DIY. I cook, wash the dishes, do the laundry, pick up dog shit, make the bed (sometimes), feed the animals ... If we had rugrats, that would most likely be added to my portfolio.
So, now le wife is on strike until le husband sorts out the gas. Plain and simple. If it doesn't happen, we're going to live off wraps, pizza and cold salad until it is fixed.
Joy.
I'm tired, my novel is going at just over 29 500 words and I'll unfortunately be spending the majority of my time for the next three to four months editing five consecutive werewolf novels for my client, so my plans to finish the first draft of Camdeboo Nights may have to be put on hold.
Money is money and I won't say no to an opportunity to make it doing something that I enjoy and that I know I'm good at. Although, please, guys, DON'T throw any subjunctive clauses at me. I know I passed that grammar course last year but I couldn't be bothered to find out what the hell a subjunctive clause is. I just know when it sounds all right, okay? Or, rather, I'm too tired to care at this point.
*smiles sheepishly*