Writing for Work

It is the dream, or at least it has always been my dream, to get paid to read and write. To be an Award-winning novelist is still on the horizon, but reasonably you need to have attainable dreams right? So yes, as a child I was always a fan of English and being a fan of English gets you the question, so you are going to be a teacher right? No. No, I did not plan on becoming the very respectable title of a teacher. I wanted to get paid to read and write.

Guess what? My dream came true! I currently do get paid to read and write. Wonderful right?

Well, yes. Yes, it is wonderful that my dream came true, but just like any other kid, I don’t think I thought my dream completely through. When your dream is your job they like you to be present and work, or in my case write, between certain hours to maintain a business structure. Unfortunately, my dear sweet muses, or voices, in my head to not entertain the certain hours or business structure.

Solution? Write all the things, whether work related or not.

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Betty Crocker or not…

For those of you who know me, I am the furthest thing from a Betty Crocker. I knew that from the beginning, well maybe not at crawling stage, but soon after.

As I was cooking Hamburger Helper at expert level, of course, this evening. If you didn’t know expert level is only looking at the box one or two times and not totally messing up this fine cuisine. It was the good kind to the Double Cheeseburger Macaroni, not the crappy regular cheeseburger macaroni. Anyway, I am cooking and measuring out the milk in the measuring cup when I bend down to look at the measuring cup.

So I am standing there bent at waist level looking at the measuring cup wondering why. Why in hell am I bending over? I mean I can pick up a measuring cup and then it hits me. It hits me like I am still standing there in the classroom at the peak of my awkwardness. Standing by the sink and the teacher prancing around the classroom in her flowered apron. It was Home Ec and we were learning how to properly measure ingredients for different recipes. She must have said a thousand times, “Make sure you bend over to get the right measurement,” and every time I cringed. I found it to be pointless and redundant, the entire class. It was like they were prepping us for Stepford Wives.

Needless to say, Home Ec was not my forte. I passed, but I think it was more out of pity than skill. I was the kid that looked forward to English and History where I could bury myself in a story filled with adventure and leave reality to someone else.

Now years later, my ability to completely skip out reality has evaded me and I now catch myself bending over to make sure the ingredients are properly measured.

Rain and My Day

My day that started with one eye staring at the alarm clock, as it blared loudly and clicked from 39 to 40. With that one click the alarm clock, an inanimate object, made it official that my day was starting 40 minutes later than it should have started.

Focus

A new work day has started. It is official. Doors unlocked, alarms shut off, lights turned on, and everyone in their places.

I am in my place, my office, waiting.

The clocks rotates its hands or changes the digits every second. I watch the invisible seconds slowly fade away.

I am in my place, my office, waiting.

Stacks of paper line the corners of my desk with folders dividing them into sections. Notes are scattered on the wall.

I am in my place, my office, waiting.

I am in my place, my office, waiting for inspiration.

Waiting for clarity.

Waiting for focus.

My First Time

This is my first time. I mean I have heard about it and done stuff, but I haven’t gone all the way. I know I am almost 30, but they tell you to wait until you are positive. I think I am positive and I want this to be special.

I know what to do. I have studied the videos and magazines. Didn’t you?

Okay, you are in it with me to the end because this is your first time too. You can’t just abort mission and leave me here like this.

This is amazing. We are perfect for each other. Think our wedding should be on the beach, or no in a park.

We are going to be happy together forever and ever. Right?