WHOSE INBOX SAYS ZERO?
I cried uncle in the face of my own stupidfaced anxieties and hired an assistant to come over a couple of days a week and help me get contracts out on the regular, organize my time, deal with receipts and paperwork and respond to emails that stress me out and make me hide under the bed.
An actual boss, she is me.
I feel super guilty about it, honestly, like, I should be able to do it all myself, all the time, surely there’s another 6 hours in the day somewhere so that I can write fiction, blog, teach, cook, keep the house clean, and then do all my own administrative stuff. OBVIOUSLY.
I have a hard time even admitting that I can’t. Or that I’ve left emails in my inbox for a year because I COULDN’T FACE THEMZ even if they were about something small and ridiculous like take a picture of your dog and send it. (Actual email.)
But I guess while I’m trying to unfuck everything all at once I can work on unfucking the weird Puritan narrative that says only lazy jerks have assistants and if I were a good person I’d do it all myself and look awesome while doing it and realize that a whole lot of authors have help because the behind the scenes work in this job is UNREAL.
IT’S NOT ALL ELVES AND MAKING UP BULLSHIT WORDS, PEOPLE.
Still, I’m embarrassed to even post on here that I needed one. Even though all kinds of shit got done today that it would have taken me months to get around to if my psyche didn’t crushinate it into brain-oblivion.
However, due to attempting a juice fast while trying to come up with ideas for things and also recover from my trip to New York I basically had the energy of a dormant gumdrop and lay on my back once my beautiful assistant left, convinced the world was made of grey slime and I likewise.
Beastly talked me into a BLT. I got better. I MIGHT have an idea. Don’t spook it! It’s a baby! INSIDE VOICES.
As for other unfucking, the weekend was mostly a wash, I couldn’t wake up in the morning, I left the bed unmade, I was a zombie. Some of this may have to do with the fasting, which is supposed to give you the MANIC ENERGY OF HEALTHFUL LIVING and turn you into VEGETABLE GIRL now with MOAR POWERS, but because I live in opposite land, three days of creamed veggie juice turned me into a sea cucumber.
Tomorrow I intend to hang pictures on the MOTHERFUCKING WALL, start a novella, and do some casual house unfucking.
I have practiced my accordion every day though. I don’t think I’ll ever get When the Saints Go Marching In out of my head. THE HUGE MANATEE.