Scratching away ...

So I was retreating, but still managing my business from Toco. Chef Boyardee, bless him, insisted that I get a BB. And while I still hold a secret passion for Apple products, I have to admit that the BB ROCKS! Except for that annoying pinging sound.

I received and sent e-mails, made appointments, apologised for not getting around to do several (not work-related things) before I left, reviewed a contract I'm about to sign, and was able to jump on top of a huge opportunity for exposure, all from the BB. This in addition to the strenuous work shopping exercises, writing, reading and discussing that I was actually in Toco to do. And on top of getting the cold. Sniff.

In the midst of this melee, a fellow freelancer from Barbados asked me what I tell people who think that because we work from home, we sit around scratching our metaphorical balls all day. At the time, I was like, "Girl, please ignore him." But it's been hovering on the edge of my consciousness since then and I have to speak up on behalf of my work-from-home peeps.

Working for a company is a finite thing; in exchange for a reliable source of income, you get to work late, sneak past the boss, make tea while the computer boots up, actually start working around 9 (you got there at 8:15), take several breaks for more tea, hold small clandestine limes with co-workers, take long lunches, leave at 3:45 and your life is your own again. Challenges are few and far in between; you have to do stuff that you don't like, that not in your job spec. You plot ways to kill that annoying co-worker to pass hours of boredom. You get fat on junk food. You brood over lost lunches in the communal fridge. All well and good.

Freelancing, however, is not quite so predictable. I can predict that just on the day that I want to sleep in an extra hour, I'll get a phone call or an e-mail I really need to answer right away. I can predict that for many, many days in the future I will roll out of bed and go directly to my desk, without passing GO or collecting any breakfast. I can predict that deadlines will always loom, my bank account will experience malnutrition time and again, and that I will spend many midnights working on some story due yesterday.

However.

I could not have predicted two years ago when I started this journey, where it would take me. I've written for publications I've idolised since childhood and earned some measure of respect for the quality of work I've produced. I've also learned how to spot a dead-end project, and the types of people who I can't work with.

I've learned how to say 'No thanks.'

I have aced challenges that I would NEVER have been able to take up if I were working an 8 to 4, making copious cups of tea just to stay warm and fend off boredom. I have become a much better writer. I read more. I've built a web of contacts who I learn from every single day, and I've made good friends.

I have nap times in the middle of the day. Who doesn't? I saw you with your head down on that desk last week.

I do have down times with nothing to do, but they occur much less often than when I started off. But I'm doing work that I love to do most of the time. I'm more confident, more sure of myself and what I can do. I feel better. I don't want to commit homicide several times a week. I don't eat junk food. I avoid traffic.

So if that seems like I'm scratching afore-mentioned balls to you, just picture me with my hand down the front of my pants, since it makes you happy. Cause this is how I work, baby.