The Job Goblin & Other Fierce Beasts

August 15

The time comes when one can no longer sit, content, on the beach. When drinking coffee and reading all day begins to pale. When walking the streets of even so wondrous and diverse a town as this begins to seem less and less diverting.

The time comes when one takes calculator in hand and begins to total up living expenses, when one gnaws one's lip contemplatively, and when one sighs in resignation at the inevitable

The time comes to look for a job.

So that's what I'm doing. I've got a few lines in the water, and today I'm going out to see more people. I look online, and in the classifieds, and I'm astonished to see all the jobs I'm not qualified for. I can't get a job in the thriving urinalysis field. I'm completely unqualified to program java, be a hotel manager, or serve as Vice President of Marketing. It's depressing. Makes me wonder what I've been doing all these years, how exactly I've been wasting my time.

Fortunately I'm qualified for some things, without even resorting to advertising. I like advertising-- despite certain moral qualms, the work itself is pleasurable-- but the deadlines are tight, the hours long, the stress level high. That wasn't true so much of the place where I used to work, but the only advertising possibilities here on the bay lie in the agency business, and things there, I understand, can be pretty intense. I'm willing to make less money in exchange for having more time to write... So I'm dipping into the fun-filled worlds of professional typist, data-entry professional, receptionist, office assistant, things like that... and sending out feelers for some freelance and contract work in advertising.

I hope I get something. I hope I don't have to work in retail again. I mean, a job in a nice bookstore could be okay, but the pay is so dismal... which would still be okay, if I had some freelance writing work coming in... but that's a lot of ifs.

Anyway. Otherwise, things are pretty good here. And I'm not really, desperately stressed about finding a job-- I've saved enough to be financially sound for a little while-- it's just a sort of generalized anxiety. My puritanical work ethic kicking in...

In more-fun news, I've been reading Ted Sturgeon, which always gets me fired up about my real occupation, writing. Yesterday I read "...and my fear is great..." for the first time, and after rolling the story around in my head for a while to savor it, I started to study what works about it, and the answer is: Lots of things. Maybe even some things I can learn from.

A couple days ago I wrote my first California story (first to be written here, first to be set here)-- it's called "Spider Rolls," and it's a pleasant little foray into surreal horror. Not a landmark work for me, not charging into exciting new directions, but I'm pleased with it. I'm currently working on a story that's going to be long, and probably will be a landmark story. It feels important. I'm stretching my writing muscles, trying to do some pretty intricate stuff, plot-and-character wise. I love the people in this story, and I'm deeply interested in their problems... I've only got about 2000 words so far, but I'll let you guys know how... um... let's call it the cowgirl story... how the cowgirl story turns out.

Ta.