I’m taking part in a 30-day writing experiment. See Kale & Cigarettes for details and the Facebook Group to read stories by other 500-words-ers.
The thing with being a freelancer is that it’s impossible to have a consistent, steady stream of work. No matter how well organized you are (it really doesn’t get more organized than me) and how proactive you are with your marketing, the amount of work you have at any given time can vary dramatically.
So it is that when I started this 30-day writing experiment, I was pretty slow at work and not too worried about finding a half hour every day to write and post. But then, naturally, work all of a sudden exploded. That 4-hour ebook editing project turned into a 20-hour ebook ghostwriting project with a deadline of this Friday. My ongoing editing client, who has been retaining me for 10 hours a week but hardly needing me at all, suddenly demands most of my time. Before those two things kicked in, I had already volunteered to do several hours of research on another book project I’m about to start. My mom arrived for a 3-week stay. And I committed to have a yard sale this weekend.
When I was a kid, having a yard sale was a thing you did spontaneously because it was a weekend day and it was nice out and what better way to spend a sunny Saturday than hauling all your crap onto the front lawn and putting ad hoc signage on it, then haggling with your neighbors about how many pennies your old record albums were worth. My dad loves yard sales (we call them tag sales where I’m from, but no one ever knows what I mean when I say this), and he always had plenty of junk to sell because he also loves taking field trips to the town dump to turn other people’s “trash into treasure.”
That’s a little glimpse into my childhood, you guys.
Anyway, apparently yard sales have changed since the ’70s. Now, you have to advertise your yard sale on Craig’s List and the local classifieds site days in advance—with descriptions, prices, and photos of what you’re selling—then field hundreds of text messages a day from people who are not going to commit to showing up on Saturday unless they already know exactly what they are going to buy from you.
I had to move my car out of the garage to make room to spread out all my garage sale items several days ago—mostly crap like old James Bond DVDs, a juicer that never lived up to its potential, dresses that won’t ever fit me again, a leafblower that Jon would like me to let you know looks nothing like a hedge trimmer and why am I such an idiot when it comes to telling lawn tools apart—so I can take pictures of all of them to keep up with the barrage of texts I’m getting.
My dad would be appalled if he knew what yard sales have turned into in 2015. When he was here a few weeks ago, he actually tried to get me to go find some yard sales with him, but luckily for me, most yard sales around here start at like 5am, and my dad (like me) does not like mornings.
However, my neighbor, with whom I planned this garage sale, really does like mornings, which is why our yard sale is starting at 7am tomorrow, and why, come Saturday afternoon, I will probably be writing about how much I loathe humanity. Stay tuned.