I haven’t worked at a full-time, paid job for nearly two years.
So, my internship has been weird. Just I haven’t done this in a long time, and while school is one thing (and, in two weeks, I’ll have to commute down to San Francisco twice a week for school. No more Zoom meetings, which I actually prefer)…three days a week in an office is weird, it feels weird.
And, most of my internship right now is education and learning how things work in the office. And creative work. And trying to pretend that I understand what is going on.
(I actually do, but I’m still learning. I don’t think people are blowing smoke up my butt…but, still. It’s part and parcel of the weirdness of a professional author. We get so much grief in so many ways, we almost get used to it. Wondering what sarcasm is involved in those statements.)
Still, I’m writing my other stuff. I’m a writer. I write for fun, as well as work.
The Winter Solist has hit a small air pocket-bridging scene between one act and another-but I’m almost past it now. Other writing projects are slow but steady and as long as I can churn out 300 words a night, I’m in good shape. I’m going to try and enjoy my weekend, and make the most of my time off. Yay!