I blog for a living now. Not here, obviously, but in general – I go into the office and I boot up a computer and I write blog post after blog post. When I’m not writing a blog post, I’m researching a blog post or pitching a blog post or putting together a blogging schedule. Then I’ll go get lunch, eat some sushi, then rinse and repeat the morning throughout the afternoon.
It’s a weird kind of job, blogging about stuff. I dig it. The focus helps a lot – for the first time in years I have a day-job that where the scope of what I’m doing is comparatively narrow. Go in, write things, produce content. It plays to my strengths, and I don’t have to switch gears too often. I like that.
I worried it was going to burn me out, doing this much writing. That the days I spent at the day-job would leave me too worn out to write anything when I got home. Turns out, that wasn’t a concern: writing begets writing. Doesn’t seem to matter what, exactly, I’m writing about, so long as I get to give it some deep focus.
So I write at work, and then I come home and write there. Yesterday I sat at work and spent seven hours writing about medical tests and poop and meal plans. Then I came home and wrote about young lovers who make the mistake of visiting a fortune teller, who warns them they’re going to kill each other one.
Then I sat down to write this post. Add another couple of hundred words to my daily total.
I do a lot of things with words, at the moment.
I could sure as hell get used to it.
