Susanna J. Sturgis   Martha's Vineyard writer and editor
writer editor born-again horse girl

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Work Ethic

June 07, 2007

Sometimes I get to wondering (I do, I really do -- I'm not making this up) how many consecutive days I could edit eight hours a day. Eight hours a day @ about $25/hour = $200/day times 365 days/year = $73,000 . . . Muwahahahaha! How about half the year? Make that 182.5 days @ $200/day = $36,500. I could work like a dog (what dog? Not my dog, or any dog I know: all the dogs I know have great respect for snoozing, no matter how hard they work when they're awake) for half the year, write and do interesting stuff the other half the year, and make more money than I'm making now.

Bail out of Cloud-cuckoo-land, girl. I just did an experiment. The most consecutive days I can edit for eight hours a day is three. I took the job because it was supposed to be a light edit. I was still working on one job, another was due in, but hey, "light edit," right? How could I have forgotten Sturgis's Law #4?

"The check's in the mail," "I gave at the office," "All this manuscript needs is a light edit": Caveat Editor.

I did point out early on that the edit required was considerably more than light, and the client agreed. However, I did have other things going on, not to mention a horse show last Sunday. The upshot was that I wound up working eight hours/day for three consecutive days and reminding myself why I much prefer to work five or six hours a day. Five or six hours is sustainable. Eight hours is not. If I have to put in eight hours, I don't dare write in the morning. If I write in the morning, I say I'll knock off at 9:30 or 10, but if I get into it (and I usually do), I have a hard time stopping at 10:30 or 11. In that case I edit till 3, go to the barn for three hours or so, come home, shower, have a beer, eat supper, have another beer, and maybe get down to work again by 7:30. To put in eight hours I have to keep going till 11:30 at least, and usually I start flagging not long after 10.

So I don't write, I don't practice guitar, I barely glance at my e-mail, and when I'm at the barn I do chores as if some efficiency expert is watching. My inspirational well starts to dry up; my muses get thirsty. I'm living to work, not working to live.

Three days. Three days max.


 

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