Whether Feast or Famine

 

Every writer knows what “feast or famine” refers to. For those who don’t, I define the phrase to mean “having more commissioned work than you’re comfortable with or having work that no one wants to buy.”

Of course, it could also translate as “Having tons of work that sits unwanted on your hard drive or not having any fresh ideas for new stories/articles/essays, etc.”

Take your pick; it all comes down to work.

I’m in a different definition slot. I have tons of work sitting on the hard drive that I haven’t yet submitted. (That marketing feat is being rectified, but on a malingerer’s schedule.) At the same time, I have too many ideas for new work to be written. I also have few jobs coming into my financial cache right now.

Couple all of that with doing three blogs on a regular basis, another that needs to get back onto a regular basis, four social networks aside from Facebook and you can see that time is precise to me.

On my work board at the moment I have: two YA fantasies that share a back burner, one women’s mystery novel, three books of poetry, and four books about my road trip last winter (all in various stages of planning/work).

I’m also taking two writing courses. Once in a while I take an afternoon off just to decompress and get away from the house. I still feel guilty about that.

In the near future, I expect to receive the first of many acceptances for work that’s already been submitted. I’m trying to use optimism here. Don’t rain on my parade. I have the right to anticipate paying gigs, too.

Feast or famine is a constant within a writer’s life, if the laments echoing across the internet from writers in various genres are to be believed. Obviously, I’ve joined the ranks and hadn’t paid attention while the process took hold. I really must pay more attention.

Several weeks ago, I vowed to make a determined effort to polish and submit at least two stories/poems/essays/articles, etc. each week. I’ve begun the process of whittling down my backlog of waiting work. Within the daily work allowance, time began taking on a sense of scarcity. Scheduling became paramount to allow for everything to fit into a day’s time allotment.

Scheduling continues to flaunt its capricious nature. I have trouble with dictating time slots for LIFE. I need some of that, too.

My goals have been stated before and remain staunchly rigid. I will overcome this creeping nightmare labeled “Feast or Famine.” In the meantime, I’ll pull on my muck boots and keep working on my hard drive’s groaning board. The entrees are getting out of hand again.