In the realm of my life as a writer this week, things have been fairly fragmented. I’ve been doing my normal writing practice, reading a lot (just started Gardner’s The Art of Fiction), and trying to get a grasp on this thing it is to freelance.
I’m been finding out a lot of information – for example, you can subscribe to way too many freelance newsletters and go mildly insane trying to mine them all for jobs. I’m also finding that – as I knew from previous experience but had apparently forgotten – it is immensely difficult to do any kind of job search while you are in a job, even if you’re simply looking for freelance/part-time writing work.
I’ve also been trying to find publishers for the writing, teaching, life anthology that I’m editing. My friends have been immensely helpful with this endeavor, and I got one nibble from a press – but nothing has panned out solidly yet. So I keep trying to find the right place.
Yesterday, my creative writing students came to that inevitable time in the semester when they start asking about finding an agent or publisher. We started to chat about that a bit with me trying to be optimistic but realistic about the publishing market today. Things just are bustling – maybe they never are – but it is hard to publish anything, let alone a book-length work. Would you agree?
I’m also been perusing the web for agents lately, trying to see if I can query the right people about my memoir-ish thing (see how I really hate to all it a memoir). But here, again, this whole job thing gets in the way – I need to reread and revise the manuscript in total before I’m even able to write a cogent query letter – and I can’t do that during the work week.
That said, I’m also finding myself grateful to have a job in this economy, and to have a job that pays a solid salary and gives me health insurance. However, I’m being reminded day by day that working 60 hours a week is not what I am meant to do – in fact, I would argue that it’s not what any human being was meant to do. We are created to be people of passion, and honestly, it’s hard to be passionate at the copy machine (unless, of course, like me, you throw a little stomping fit when it jams again).
So all in all, the world of writing has been slow in terms of pages but productive in terms of inquiry – and perhaps that’s what it should be for me right now.
How about you? How’s your pursuit of your passion going? Are you finding time for it? Are you laying low on it for a while? What is your passion, and how do you go about getting it?