Remember those cocktail parties of yore when young professionals would discuss their salaries using terms like "high five figures" or "low six figures"? Though close enough to overhear, I was never anywhere close to earning those kind of salaries. Best to keep my low five figures to myself.
When I left my last editing job ten years ago to raise my kids, I occasionally picked up some writing and editing work that paid at best a couple of hundred dollars. Woo-hoo! Now I was making in the low three figures! Not exactly something to brag about at a party. That was OK. I was working at my pace on a project of my choosing, a novel, maybe even the Great American Novel, that would one day land me a lucrative book deal. My husband would be able to quit his job and get that job at Home Depot he's always wanted. In the meantime I mostly settled for bylines, clips for my portfolio, and the publisher's gratitude.
Then came the Depression Light. And not a book deal in sight--mainly because the book isn't finished. (I've never been any good at endings.) In this time of double-digit unemployment and glacial hiring, the low three figures are beginning to sound pretty good--especially if I can string several of them together. It just so happens that our oldest son is going to college in the fall, and now Mama needs to contribute more than her flexible schedule and homemade cookies. I'm looking for work, whether that means one job, a couple of jobs, odd jobs here and there. I'm making the rounds of networking groups (a shout out to LongsPeakNet!)
Until now I've resisted the Lure of the Blog. Who would want to read the navel-gazing of a middle-aged, middle American mother of two long past her edgy female writer phase? Now I figure, what have I got to lose? I can manage writing a couple of posts a week. I may even be on to something zeitgeisty. I'm hoping you'll let me know!