When reviewing potential gigs, I have to choose between applying for writing gigs and editing gigs. Although both involve playing with words, they require different mindsets and skill sets. Frankly, this year has not been good for writing, especially for writing fiction.

Editing takes less emotional investment. I don’t have to create; I can massage what already exists and make it better. My paid freelance work this year has focused primarily on editing.

Writing nonfiction doesn’t seem to drain me as much as writing fiction does. Nonfiction doesn’t really demand that creative spark. It pulls less on emotion. I have a stronger emotional attachment to fiction than to nonfiction. I’ve also found that, if I have a client’s outline or other plot summary/notes, I still can write fiction and do a good job of it. Maybe because it’s the client’s concept rather than mine?

That shift in business focus doesn’t mean I’ve lost the sense of what makes a good story. If anything, it has sharpened that sense, because it takes better quality now to capture and hold my interest. Maybe this is a sign of maturity and refinement, but I suspect it’s more a sign of the mental and emotional fatigue imposed by grief.

So, should I write or edit? The answer is, as usual, it depends.

The closer I get to retirement age, the more I think I ought to reduce my workload. Then I find myself with a day or two not scheduled to the max and spend my time hunting for new gigs and submitting bids for work. I’m a glutton for punishment, obviously.

Steady work is the holy grail for freelancers. Sure, the occasional, really lucrative project comes along every so often, but those can’t be relied upon or factored into a budget. They’re almost like windfalls, except you have to earn the money.

I actually have been busy, though. Busy is good. The state of busy-ness occupies my brain and distracts my thoughts from melancholy. It’s not good for me to have too much “thinking” time without something to command my attention.

In addition to regular work (two newsletters, a magazine, blog editing, etc.), I’ve been doing a wee bit of riding. Two weekends ago when my elder son’s friend was visiting, I went on a trail ride with my best friend, Cindra, and another good friend, Sue. Cindra brought her two horses: Henry and Cody. My son’s friend, Jess, rode Henry. Henry is the big, phlegmatic appaloosa gelding who can be trusted with idiots and little children. We trust him with novice riders and, as usual, he was perfect! (Henry and horses like him are worth their weight in gold.) I rode Teddy, the little gelding I rescued from a kill pen last year and sent into training for a few months. He did surprisingly well, much better than I expected. Teddy received a generous helping of peppermint treats for his good behavior.

Last weekend, I rode Replica, the new pony, a 9-year-old Halflinger mare. Pretty, pretty, pretty. When I rode her last, she had a bit of a meltdown. This time, she did so much better. Cindra rode with us on Cody and her good friend Terri rode Henry. Cody and Henry served as the calm equine examples Replica needed to maintain her cool.

These two outings taught me that neither of my ponies likes to lead. Both are happy somewhere in the middle or even bringing up the rear. That’s good to know. Replica can go out by herself, I think, but she’s happier in the midst of other horses and riders.

In addition to work and horses, I hired a landscape company, a 2-man outfit who came out and have done utter wonders clearing out overgrown weeds and brush and unwanted trees. Anyone looking for a good landscaping team will get a referral from me for Martin’s Landscape Revival. Great work, guys! They’re almost finished. I’ve already offered them more work if they want it.

I also bought a new riding mower. After years of making do with old equipment that my husband purchased cheap–usually because it didn’t work–then fixed to get it in working order, I finally decided it was time to get something new, something that worked right away. My younger son, Brian, who’s visiting from Alaska, has used the new mower to mow the yard and the pastures. We’re all glad to have this beast of a lawn mower.

Brian has mentioned a preference to not move back to Alaska. That makes me happy. He’s looking for a job, something in automotive restoration/auto body painting. He wants to work on classic cars. I’ve dredged up a dozen places near here, including a handful that I know are hiring. The rest is up to him.

So, that book I started last month? I’ve gotten a bit further in it, but not a lot. Because I’ve been busy and busy is good.

Way back in the 1990s, it became de rigueur for businesses to exhort their wage slaves into giving 110 percent to the job. I always loathed that expectation as well as its phrasing. When not wallowing in the magic of word salads, I tend toward the literal and logical. If I give all (100 percent) of myself, then who’s providing that additional 10 percent? This is followed by wondering as to whether there would be anything left of me if I gave 100 percent to the job. Don’t the kids and husband and pets deserve a good portion of me, too? What about me? What do I deserve to reserve for myself?

That expectation to always be on the hustle annoyed me then and it still annoys me. Articles on Inc. and Forbes and posts in LinkedIn to the contrary, business expects their employees to give their all, as if a salary in exchange for a certain number of hours of work entitled them to ownership of mind, body, and soul all the time.

Thank God I freelance.

​Of course, it’s considered unprofessional to mention other clients to any client. After all, each client should feel as though you’ve all the time and energy in the world to devote to him or her. No client should feel as though they have competition or must share your time, attention, and energy.

That particular attitude was pounded into us at a former job, practically with the expectation that we were to work 40 hours per week for each client. If one managed two or three clients, then one was obligated to put in 80 or 120 hours per week.

Not happening, folks. Now, when a client comes to me with a project, I have the authority and responsibility to inform that client when I can fit the project into my schedule and estimate how long it will take me to do. I take into account not only my anticipated workload, but also my schedule. What appointments do I have? What deadlines do I have?

If we go further back to that late 1980s, I remember sitting in an interview for a technical writer position (which I didn’t get) and the hiring manager (another woman) stating that women’s fight to gain equal rights in the workplace resulted in losing some gender-based considerations and preferences. When my mother was pregnant, she lost her job. Back in the 1960s and earlier, that was common. A woman was expected to devote herself to her family. That began to change in the 1970s. By the 1980s, a woman was expected to devote herself wholly to job and family. Separately, as never should the twain mix.

In some ways, it’s true. Women’s Lib cost women a good deal by insisting society ignore biological differences and treating men and women identically and interchangeably for the most part.

But I digress.

I never say I’ll give something my all. Instead I give it my best. I think that’s fair.