Saturday morning by the reflecting pool...

[lagilman]

The past few weeks have been...busy. But this morning I was able to pause and consider the fact that I am, for the moment, almost caught up. I've crossed the ts and dotted the is for all the Nocturne stuff pending; PoL is still being looked at by Outside Eyes; I've done the once-over on the story for someone else; my betas haven't gotten back to me about "Albatros;" "Fairy Dusted" is done, and I don't have to actually write Katya's story for a month or so yet... so the only thing that I have to work on today is Vineart 2. And I'm really enjoying the hell out of it -- in that "oh god it's killing me" way that's enjoyment to a writer, anyway.

So I'm taking a pause, sitting here in my windowseat and drinking my coffee, watching my down-the-hall-neighbor introduce his infant son to the recently-trimmed hedges, teaching him the words in English and Chinese, exchanging a smile with the crazy-haired woman walking her bulldog, all of us so much more comfortable in this morning's cooler weather, and I'm thinking... Life? Is pretty good. For all the insanity of the past twelve months, the pain and the uncertainty and the too much work and the fear of not-enough-work... sometimes all it takes is for the heat wave to break, just a little, so you can remember that this is all supposed to be enjoyable, too.

Yeah, I know: a lot of people believe that the purpose of work is to earn money, so you can do fun things later. Only we've learned the hard way this past year that the money may not always be there the way we planned... so there has to be more to what we do, every day. Otherwise we're just slogging through, day by day, for...what?

I know my answer: for the feeling I get when I wrote something that works, when I understand something better for having written about it (or indirectly around it), when I get feedback that says "yes, this works, this worked for me, I understand; I thought or I felt my way to a better place because of that thing you wrote."

Do you have a joy in your daily work, that goes beyond a paycheck? What is it?


[and, for those of you who need a bit of adorkitude to your morning:

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Comments

[girasole.livejournal.com]

When a person at a professional event (retirement party) remembers with clarity a piece I wrote professionally more than ten years ago.

When a graduate student, after eight weeks of intensive survey-of-YA-literature summer class reading, writes a long note saying that she never knew YA lit was so rich, never enjoyed working so hard for a class, can't wait to share what she's read with her clientele.

When I write a sentence in email or to a friend that I know sings, and sounds the right notes.

[mevennen.livejournal.com]

When one of my students, either on the courses we run through the shop or at the university, understands something for the first time. When someone - like the woman in the wheelchair in the shop this morning - finally buys the dress she's been saving up for and her face lights up. When customers come in and say "This is a beautiful shop!".

And the writing, of course. The sense of being part of a writing community, too.

Lots of things, really. It's been a very tough year financially. Even before that, I didn't take things for granted and now, even less.

[barbhendee.livejournal.com]

When I get out of bed in the morning and walk to the kitchen in my red plaid bathrobe, open the back glass sliding door for the kitties, and then hit the "on" button on the coffee maker . . . .

When I then carry a cup of steaming coffee (with milk) to the little office at the back of our house--still wearing my bathrobe--fire up my computer and get to work without ever going near my car, the street, or any people except J.C.

I wake up thankful every day that I finally . . . finally get to work from home.

[ex-fashioni.livejournal.com]

PUPPY!

I know my answer: for the feeling I get when I wrote something that works, when I understand something better for having written about it (or indirectly around it), when I get feedback that says "yes, this works, this worked for me, I understand; I thought or I felt my way to a better place because of that thing you wrote."

Yeah. This. But then again, not such a surprise, right?

[mtlawson.livejournal.com]

My joy is that I can roll out of bed and walk downstairs to my job awaiting me on the dining room table.

(The balance is the pager that sits next to the laptop on the dining room table; it has an annoying habit of going off at 3 AM.)

[fakefrenchie.livejournal.com]

My garden gives me joy. Sometimes, but not always, my clients give me joy. For example, when one client thanks me for my efforts and says the text is better now than it was before.