Finally I can breathe. Finally I can write for myself. Yes I am a selfish writer – writing for myself but this is how I vent out, how I cope with stress.
I still can’t believe I was able to survive the weekend. I can hardly believe I made it out alive.
I was buried, literally, on tons of work! Freelancing work. Not academic writing since my principles won’t allow me to take such kind of work but instead I was buried doing tons of content writing.
It all started when an avalanche of projects poured in last Friday. First, the company who introduced me to freelance writing gave an assignment for 20 political articles that I needed to rewrite. Almost at the same time, I won 2 projects I bid on at GetAFreelancer.com thus adding another 10 articles that I had to rewrite. Apart from that, there were other clients who were interested in hiring me and were asking me to submit sample articles.
I was shocked. Petrified even. Can I do all these in so short a time. They were all due before the weekend was over. But God willing I was able to accomplish them.
After working non-stop, and looking even worse than when I was working in a call center – shrunken eyes with black circles from lack of sleep, pale skin from lack of sunlight, dizziness from lack of hemoglobin, muscle spasms from excessive stress – I made it. I survived.
And how I love the feeling that I am, or at least I can say, that I am a writer. It may not be the kind of writing I had imagined but still I can now take on officially the title of “Writer” as a profession. How much I earn and if I get paid is another discussion.
Even after the thousands of words I’ve cranked out over the past couple of hours, words are still flowing from my mind right now. I still can’t stop writing as evidenced by what I’m blogging about. And if I thought writing professionally would ebb the flow of original ideas, I was wrong. Ideas for topics of what I would want to write here are flowing nonstop just like before.