It seems like I've come around to that time again, You know the time... when I sit here wondering why I bother to write books and wondering whether my time would be better spent by getting a job outside the house.
Of course, who would hire me? I haven't worked outside my home in 17 years.
Seventeen years... I've been writing now for SEVENTEEN YEARS. God, that's depressing.
Yes, I know. I have sixteen books published. And umpteen others in various states of finished. It's not like I haven't done anything. But if I had an employee who was so sporadic in her efforts, I'd have fired her years ago. Hit the road, you lazy bitch.
So, yeah, I looked at jobs. Writing, editing, proofing... you need a degree. Umm... I don't have one of those. And I haven't been able to write to spec since I worked for other people (and even then, it was like pulling teeth). Editing/Proofing other people's work? Well, that would be fine if it was for other people I like who write the stuff I like. I'm at the point in my life where I can't stomach reading stuff I don't like written by people I don't like.
Why yes, I would like some cheese...
Anyway, I'm thinking housekeeping would be an awesome job right now. Loads of places around here - resorts and things - are hiring housekeepers and the pay isn't too bad.
Or I could just get up off my lazy ass and get back to writing. The pay sucks and the benefits are for shit, but it's my job. Maybe I need to get back to treating it like one.