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The Demon Possum That Lives In My Head
No prison can hold its furry fury.
I hadn’t quite realized how worried some people would be after reading some of my last posts. It was never my intention, so I thought I’d start off this week’s content schedule with an apology, and an explanation.
Yes, content schedule. This is the year I want to start making real, professional money from my writing; but the first step is creating content on a regular basis, and holding myself accountable to that. It’s going to be my life, as a serious freelancer with clients and deadlines. So, every Sunday, I’ve started sitting down and deciding one topic I can write freely and easily about for each day of the week. In addition to injecting some structure into my life and work, it also limits how much whining about my depression I can do.
I might have liked to write a long rant about how sad I am on Wednesday, for example, but — ooooh noooo — I’ve already scheduled something snarky about Christian rock music, which will take a few hours of research and actually be edifying, for that day’s topic. And I’ve never been one to break plans, cancel dates, or be late for the sake of my whims.
Back to the constant state of heavy, inescapable misery I secretly live in, though…
