Flapping my Chicken wings.

So okay.

I’m in the midst of stretching my little chicken wings and trying to put together a series of articles to pitch to an online magazine for money.

Have you ever watched a chicken try to fly? Some can fly, some only think they can and others run around in crooked circles flapping and squawking in increasing distress.

I am in the last category.

I am nervous about embarking on a small bit of real grown up freelance work if I get it.

My main reasons for this are as follows:

  1. I am growing increasingly stressed out from dayjob things, financial worries (summer is always super tight money wise), things I need to work on said freelance/grown up authors things and their cost.
  2. Circumstances beyond my control.

The thing with the financial problems is this.

While I’m not the wee impoverished writer I was a decade ago but, I am the breadwinner in my household.

That is a whole other set of holy shit.

Over the years I still haven’t learned how to balance out the real costs of writing (time, equipment etc) with keeping my household in good food and health.

I really am struggling with this right now y’all. It’s making me feel terribly anxious and upset.

The thing is that my home computer is really on her last legs. Cunty Beast (her name) has been my faithful companion for ten years of rebuilds.  When I thought i wanted to go into IT Cunty and I spent a lot of the time disassembled on the floor together. The only thing original on her is the floppy drive and the case. I’ve reinstalled windows XP a few times, I’ve learned to make XP run like I want it to but, really it’s time for her to retire.

Which leads me to a confession.

I still haven’t purchased a Chrome book. the people who donated to my tattoo birthday fund kindly didn’t want their money back. I withdrew it from gofundme and bills happened. An unusually high electric bill because it got so cold in our place. We learned this year that when the apartment below us is empty in the winter our heating bill goes way up.

So blablablabla.

I had to use my computer money to pay bills and buy food.

So while I am not on the cusp of let’s take a whole saturday and take buses around to every foodbank we think might serve us, I am firmly in the poor folks place where spending even 150$ on the cheapest chromebook could mean that we have to eat dollar store food for most of the month or our cell phones might be cut off.

Me being me with my particular set of anxieties, I start trying to figure out how to hustle more money up so I don’t feel so guilty and shitty for spending out of the household budget on things not necessary for survival.  When I was younger this usually took the form odd sex work. Personal photos for a foot fetishist, phone sex,  at one point I sold cheeky grainy webcam shots of my ass to old British men.

As I’ve gotten older I’ve done surveys o the internet, auctioned off things. Sometimes I do shit like this (the link is me writing tiny kind of dumb articles for fractions of pennies). At one time my health was good enough for me to just take ALL of the overtime hours.

I cut financial corners. I don’t buy X things.  blablabla.

Basically I’m in a place where creating is hard because there is so much shit that falls to me to take care of and I just don’t know how to balance all these things out.

How do I handle this stress and be able to write AND try to do something to better the financial situation?

I’m lost.

At sea.

My chicken wings are getting tired and I just want to lay down.

I want to be back in that place where I can write my sometimes nifty stories and not be so consumed by all the other stuff.

Fuck.

 

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