Boomstick, this is my: working as a real-live author


Six a.m. on a Sunday. That’s what it takes this week – and this is the first week.

I feel like I’m going to puke.

Make a coffee run. Return home. Send the girlfriend off for her 10k this morning, which I’m unable to attend because apparently runners are not expected to have people who would like to be there to see them run. Come home; avoid waking up sleeping guests in the living room. Headphones. iTunes. Facebook. Twitter. Twitter. Twitter. Facebook game I ashamedly play.

Aaand finally: Chapter 2, about 4,000 words in. This being the first new chapter of The Book. The Book for which, you last read, we were shopping around the Great Book Proposal. The Book which Nick Hurwitch and I are now being paid to write. By a publisher, which is real.

A lot has happened since then. The book proposal suffered some major rewrites, additions, manipulations, mutilations and rewrites. That sample chapter at the end of the last blog post I put down for this? Didn’t even make it into the proposal at the end. Might not even make it into the book.

I’ll write some details about the book proposal and our process in the future, because it’s going to take me a while. I’ll also drop our finalized proposal, and all the addendum stuff we ended up creating at the eleventh hour, for your perusal. I’m not sure that our example will help any other writers, but it can’t hurt. Unless it can. In which case, sorry, our bad.

So meanwhile, several months later, the book is, yes, frakkin’ sold. We’ve got a publisher. They want to publish it. It’s going to be published.

Meanwhile, writing partner, hetero-lifemate and superbestfriend Nick Hurwitch and I have our work cut out for us. We’re currently in the process of auditioning illustrators to help us put together the textbook-survival guide-field manual-nonfiction humor science text we’re hoping to make. Oh, and we also need to self-educate in several different schools of theoretical physics.

However, for the first time ever, I’m a self-sustaining professional writer, with no other stopgaps or occupations propping me up. The safety nets are gone, but somehow I’ve managed to fall directly into doing what I’ve always wanted to do, and I get to make a decent-ish living doing it. Copy editing is no longer my full-time job: I’m now a freelance, professional blogger and author. Now there’s nothing and nobody in the way – except me.


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