My book project seems to have stalled again; the contract hasn't shown up yet, but I'm trusting that we're still moving forward. In the meantime I've picked up an editing job. I'm diving into that this morning, as the author was prompt in signing our contract and sending payment. I believe this makes her manuscript my priority, even if the other book project was on the table before her job showed up.
Sometimes, when I look down the road, I get exhausted at the thought of year after year of trusting that the next project will show up and then I think I should just find a job somewhere, with a steady paycheck, in any field of endeavor whatsoever. This is fear talking. I'm putting it here so I can stare it down.
That was my girl before she dressed up as an ice cream cone for Halloween on Saturday. She and her friends went to hear a heavy metal band headlined by one of their crew. She says they ended up playing mini golf in the basement of the Brooklyn venue till 4 AM, in costume, a rather odd evening. I don't think her ice cream cone with its red balloon cherry headband on top scared any ghosts away, but I'd wager her smile might help temper my angsty feelings this morning.