This morning I woke up feeling rotten and pouty and whiney about why it is I can’t just make up my own stories and write them down and have somebody pay me for it just like Neil Gaiman for heaven’s sake! Most of that comes from the nasty little germs that have invaded my body and turned me into a grouch. And just as I started writing an incredibly grouchy post about how hard it is to write restrictive little passages for freelance work, one of the editors I work for sent a message asking if I’d be interested in writing another biography. Pronto. And she gave me a list of names to choose from. And then a friend of mine asked when I was planning to write another chapter of Zombie Cat, because she missed it. Suddenly I was feeling better. I do have some flexibility in the book-length freelance projects I do, and I definitely get paid for those, and Zombie Cat is pure fun even though I don’t get paid for it.
Little things like choice and cracking up my friends really make my day.