I love this freelance writing business; I’m getting into the creative lifestyle full swing. I revel in scoffing huge bowls of pasta, drinking copious amounts of wine and not feel guilty, and smoking cigarettes even though don’t normally smoke. The only bit I can’t stand is the smelly smokers’ finger, so have taken to wearing my left leather motorcycle glove while smoking – further adding to the theatre. One of the greatest effects of my new lifestyle is that I have lost my voice due to the cigarettes, giving my speech a sexy husky rock star quality. I think I owe my great Saturday night to the response the voice had on my male counterpart.
Freelancing now means that I am unemployed in the traditional sense, allowing me to wake late, be spontaneous, wear strange clothes around the house, dance with the dog to loud music, and write through the night. Working from home, I can be as lonely as I like, donning smears of black makeup and crooning to angst filled tunes, or as extrovert and social as possible, visiting friends unannounced and partying till the early hours.
One of the problems with being creative is that an epiphany will strike at the most inopportune moments, like on the way to the gym (a remnant habit of my old life) an idea struck me waiting at the lights. I had neither pen nor paper on me, so had to U-turn immediately and tear back home. Let’s just say I haven’t got back yet. So I will now be slowly putrefying at my desk, losing muscle mass. I guess that goes part and parcel with the lifestyle. And my lungs may not hold out. Not that I have aspirations to be a singer, but any day now my sexy purr of a voice is going to develop into an entirely un-sexy phlegm-producing chest infection. I’m not looking forward to it.
Thus after the novelty of my new lifestyle wears off (give it a month), I think I’ll slink in part back to my old ways of healthy eating and regular exercise. As for the dancing with the dog – not a chance – I like my new life too much.
Freelancing now means that I am unemployed in the traditional sense, allowing me to wake late, be spontaneous, wear strange clothes around the house, dance with the dog to loud music, and write through the night. Working from home, I can be as lonely as I like, donning smears of black makeup and crooning to angst filled tunes, or as extrovert and social as possible, visiting friends unannounced and partying till the early hours.
One of the problems with being creative is that an epiphany will strike at the most inopportune moments, like on the way to the gym (a remnant habit of my old life) an idea struck me waiting at the lights. I had neither pen nor paper on me, so had to U-turn immediately and tear back home. Let’s just say I haven’t got back yet. So I will now be slowly putrefying at my desk, losing muscle mass. I guess that goes part and parcel with the lifestyle. And my lungs may not hold out. Not that I have aspirations to be a singer, but any day now my sexy purr of a voice is going to develop into an entirely un-sexy phlegm-producing chest infection. I’m not looking forward to it.
Thus after the novelty of my new lifestyle wears off (give it a month), I think I’ll slink in part back to my old ways of healthy eating and regular exercise. As for the dancing with the dog – not a chance – I like my new life too much.
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