… well almost.

Month 3 of freelancing went something like this:

Things were going relatively well, I was spending about half my time on an unlucrative project dear to my heart, and the other half on work that pays the bills. I was determined not to take on more.

Then, early in the month, the work from the one client started drying up, and I spent a white night worrying that the unlucrative project would remain unlucrative, and I’d have to work until I was 85. I spent the next day doing bizdev, and things went nuts from there. The phone rang and rang and rang, and I had to hurriedly print business cards, throw together a professional website, gather up a portfolio and run from one meeting to the next. I said yes to everything. My available hours were filled before I’d seen half the people I’d committed to.

Then I set about actually doing all that work, and first-impressing all those people at once. Nights were white again, evenings and weekends non-existent. I was proud to be able to work from my terrasse, but it soon felt like a cube.

Now it’s time to exhale again, to be courageous for the second time. I have to convince myself that this trove of work will hold, drop the work I like less, and continue with the unlucrative labor of love.

To be continued.