Karavansara

East of Constantinople, West of Shanghai

The hardest week of the year

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22096233_10155822851451584_40365599892889573_oThis is going to be a killer week.
I’ll be in Turin on Friday night to present the Dark Italy anthology, and I’ll be in Milan on Saturday to help at my publisher’s stand in the Cartoomics comics and fantasy fair, and to get my copy of Nightbird signed by Lucia Patrizi.

At the same time, I have to nail shut the coffins of three jobs…
. I need to finish my first script ever, that was due this past weekend but I burned the deadline. And believe me, this is the toughest writing job I ever did.
. I need to start and finish a piece about an Italian explorer and adventurer for a magazine – fun job, well-paying, but I need to find the time to do it.
. I need to write two chapters of a mystery novel to complete a pitch next week – the chapters are outlined and writing this, that should be the first book in a series, is another great fun… but again, time.

And of course I am teaching an online course.
And two translations are here on my disk that would be nice to finish by the end of the month.

To make things harder there is a wrist that’s still in its elastic cast, and the fact that I have a lot of other projects waiting in the wings – the third episode of AMARNA, the new 12.000-words novelette for my Patrons, and at least a Corsair story and a Buscafusco story to be completed asap.
But of course, commissions pay, and therefore they have the precedence, even when they are the hardest job I ever took.

I was told, a few weeks back, that maybe I should try and look for “a proper job” instead of insisting with this useless writing business. The fact that writing is the only job I’ve been able to find in two years, and I paid all of my bills thanks to it,  does not register with people that have “a proper job”.
There are days I’d love to get a 9-to-5 job cleaning gutters for a standard wage. No fear, no panic, no phone calls from the bank or the electric company about unpaid bills. Just eight hours of physical toil while my brain works on the stories, and the weekends for writing only what I like.
But that’s not happening, not if you are old and “overqualified”, not if you live in Astigianistan.
So writing it is, and don’t get me wrong – it’s a fun job, the best in town.
But it would be nice, once in a while, to meet people that do not consider it some kind of stupid conceit, or as an excuse not to work.

But anyway, by Monday I’ll have cleared my desk, one way or another. Then I’ll be able to go back to my personal projects, leaving commissions by the side for a while.

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Author: Davide Mana

Paleontologist. By day, researcher, teacher and ecological statistics guru. By night, pulp fantasy author-publisher, translator and blogger. In the spare time, Orientalist Anonymous, guerilla cook.

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