I have previously pontificated on the joys of trying to be a Working Writer. Today I have had an excellent example of how you can suddenly find yourself suffering an almost embaressing excess of opportunities.
Earlier this week, I accepted a position working with the Belconnen Arts Centre. It is not a writing job as such but more a return to bean counting but it is in support of the arts and a very exciting position, so I can't complain.
I do not start until Monday however the Centre had the launch of its latest exhibition this evening so I duly trotted along. I had been intending to wander along for a Captain Cook anyway but the new boss was keen for me to be there to meet a few people. So after a day spent buried in archives doing some fascinating research, I had a quick shit, shave and shower and headed off. The opening was quite pleasant and I quite liked the small exhibition. Some photographs by Eugenie Keefer Bell were simply stunning.
I arrived home and finally got around to checking the email for the first time today.
A while back, I had been talking to a company about doing some technical writing for them on contract, but they had appeared to lose interest. Tonight I found a near-panicked email from them, wanting to talk to me on Monday. So I had to regretfully inform them that I had just accepted another position. Quite a pity as I was rather looking forward to getting into that work.
Then there was another email. I had been approached about doing a small editing engagement but was recently told that it wouldn't be for a while. Another email this evening, also wanting to talk to me urgently about doing it. This is small enough that I will be able to do it.
After feeling for some time that nobody was interested, I felt rather chuffed that all of a sudden I was in demand!
Either starvation or riches and nothing in between!