On Monday, I dreamed that I was sitting at a round table at a wedding reception with editors from various magazines and newspapers. I kept passing them pitches that I had jotted down on the back of cocktail napkin pitches.
That’s how I knew that I was burned out.
So, I took the week off. Two big projects are off my desk. I have to answer some e-mails and poke one last guy that isn’t responding to my requests for an interview. But I’m working on 1/10 capacity at the moment. And it FEELS fabulous.
Sorry if I haven’t responded to e-mail or blogged this week. I really needed some recovery time.
The article that I wrote about a 2020 presidential candidate was republished and was seen by more people. The New York Times linked to my articles, when they did a run-down of the candidate’s policy positions on education. (Yes, I’m vague blogging. I don’t want anybody to stumble across this blog, while googling key words. I enjoy my underground status.)
I think I’m going to do more political writing this year, but we’ll see. I’m still too tired to think about my next move.
For the rest of the day, I have nothing but house-wifey chores on my list. I have to hunt down some after school activities for Ian. I need to hire someone to clean our foul bathrooms. I have to fill out some disability paperwork from the state for Ian. I have to get to the gym.
Being a freelancer sucks in many ways — always hustling, no health plan, low pay — but one of the good things is that I can just declare a vacation week and not have to check with anyone.
I’ll be back later this afternoon.
Apt. 11d 