The Big Pile of Work

Thus far in 2012, I've signed no fewer than six contracts and have been shelling out shorter pieces for magazines at an ever-increasing rate.  The pile of work now on my desk has grown to an alarming size.  This, coupled with my stack of new ideas I want to write, may result in my complete exhaustion.

But I press on . . . . 

As Hawkeye Pierce once said on M*A*S*H . . . "I never knew how tiring total exhaustion could be."

Still, I rather like these editors who keep writing to me.  I feel I know them.  I might even be in love with a few of them.  I may send them flowers.

As one editor quipped a few days ago in her usual weekly email:  "I don't know how you keep getting these ideas, but wherever they come from, thanks for sending them my way."

Awww, shucks.   

But I can't take any credit. Those ideas come from exhaustion.  The later I write, and the earlier I rise, those ideas keep coming and won't let me sleep.  I continue to sleep less each day (and work out harder at the gym) and one of these days, the way I figure it, I won't have to sleep at all.  

I'll just be a writer alone in a room hunkered down beneath a twenty-five watt bulb.  Writing all night.  

And when I've expired all of my ideas, I'll drop dead.

But come to think of it, there's a story there, too . . . and I'd better get crackin'.