I have a serious problem. I work entirely too much. As a freelance writer, I will spend EASILY 12 hours a day writing in my makeshift dining room office. That, in and of itself, isn’t necessarily a problem. The issue is when I tell myself I will take a day off and just write for me (like my recent and upcoming books, contest entries, or other creative endeavors) but, invariably, end up on BlogMutt or Upwork pandering my words for cash.
Cash is, indeed, a good thing. I recently moved to another state and would really like to finally get back on my own two feet with my own place and all the perks that allegedly come with adulthood; however, starting over (again) is difficult.
Mental health is also a good thing. At least that’s what my therapist says. But since I haven’t really made any friends here, I tend to spend the majority of my time writing. I do go to the gym, the store, and the occasional meal with my mom and stepdad at the local casino (check out The Oy Vey Buffet if you haven’t already…third piece down). Aside from that, I’m pretty much of a loner who spends her days listening to Spotify through earbuds, sitting on a stack of pillows (because a dining room set was not intended to be office furniture), and writing. Compounded by my extreme insomnia, I really get a lot of work done.