What it’s really like to transition from full time freelance writer to full time technical writer

Short Explanation:

It’s exactly like drinking from a fire hose.

Long Explanation:

It’s even more exactly like trying to cram 37 hours of day into 24 hours while knowing that in order to get everything done efficiently, you have to devote some of those hours to sleep. This is great in theory except that during the time that you’re supposed to be sleeping you instead spend that time listening for the serial killer that’s hiding in your closet only he’s not in your closet because you checked before crawling into bed but you’re certain that he MUST be in there because you purposely leave the closet door ajar a strategically random amount before departing from your house every morning and when you come home the closet door is closed and meanwhile your sleep-deprived day hours are spent educating yourself on a new-to-you industry that’s littered with unfamiliar acronyms and at the end of each day you’ve learned so much that your brain leaks out of your ears a little, which means that you’ve probably spent close to four hundred hours retaining nothing except maybe the fine art of how to make perfectly aligned snowmen out of coffee stains on your desk and then the weekend comes chugging along only it doesn’t stop and stay awhile but instead glides right past you so quickly that while your head is busy spinning, all you see is the vague outline of your to-do list where proof lies that you had ALL INTENTIONS of cutting your grass (for three weekends in a row) and you just know that your neighbours are looking at your front lawn during your absence and whispering amongst themselves as they pull straws to see who will be the one to remind you that hay season in the suburbs is not actually a life ambition.

Meanwhile the one thing that you ARE learning from sitting in meetings that last just about forever with people who probably learned to speak fluent General Engineering by the time they were three hours old is how to fall asleep inside your head while maintaining just the right level of thoughtful frown across your eyebrows to make you look attentive and discerning at the same time. And you know you’ve got this down pact because somehow you’ve managed to also train your mouth to ask the right question at the precise right time, which in turn inspires a very smart and knowledgeable person called “your boss” to look over at you and endearingly call you “geek” and usually you would feel obliged to correct this person except that she has a pleased look on her face as though you’re clearly one of “them” and so you just smile politely and refrain from saying what you’re really thinking: which is that you have no idea what you just asked.

In other news, the book writing is going well. I blame this on the fact that I understand the world in my head much better than the world of work force.

Also, the term “regular pay check” is something I’ve decided no one should ever live without. It trumps bohemian lifestyle any day of the week. Well, except maybe Saturday and Sunday.

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