Musings on ‘Real Jobs’

So, as I mentioned a couple weeks ago, I started a new day job recently. It’s… OK, at best, and that is OK, because that’s what I expected. I also got (get) a lot of “at least it’s something” or “hey, it’s a job” from very well-meaning friends. Yes, it is both those things. But why is it so different?

I’m quite sure it’s a refrain that most starving artists have heard- and to a point, it’s true. A steady source of income is a good thing, it keeps food on the table and a roof over it. The thing I don’t say to the people who lend that supposed comfort is that the same week I took this job, I turned down two others, both of which were far more lucrative. One would have driven me completely insane (anyone who was around for this time LAST year will attest to my mental state from THAT job. This was a continuation of it). The other would have required a lot of travel- not something I dislike by any means, but would basically mean I had no set writing schedule. So the job I took won’t make me rich, but it will keep me fed and allow me to focus on writing.

It’s something.

I went and saw Marian Call on Friday, and she was predictably fantastic, but more than her music, it really inspired me to push through some of my own mental blocks. Readings to only a few people, for example. It’s part of the process, and I have to be better about it. I’m adjusting my routine, as I mentioned the other day, to wrap up the three projects I’m working on in a timely fashion. So, yeah. Something.

I want more than something.

DESR

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