Yeah, yeah, yeah...

I love to write. I really do.
Just like I love to act, sing, dance, and generally make a fool of myself in front of large crowds of people.

But there is something about my psyche or egomania that loves to differentiate between the work I love to do and the work I do to pay the bills.

In my theatre career, the shows I have loved the most and the projects that have challenged me the most were (with a few exceptions) unpaid or poorly paid gigs. And the projects that pay the best (software voiceovers, corporate gigs) have little to no 'personal gratification' to them at all.

And so it is with writing. My part-time day job is reading and writing. No joke. Alternately, I get some jobs that are mere proofreading and others that are involved research and summary projects. I read articles, published columns and blogs and such (mostly about business, finance and politics) and summarize them into small blurbs that are easily understandable to the average Joe. I don't get to decide which topics I write about and very rarely do I come across a project that piques my interest. I get bored with the material quickly and lose the motivation to write about my own stuff... leaving all three of my blog readers and my Facebook fans in the lurch. Sorry 'bout that.

As Christmas nears, the need to make more money has me taking on more work than my ADD brain can safely handle. And unfortunately, none of the articles have anything to do with art, fashion, social trends or the theatre. Damn. I'm going a little stir-crazy.

If only someone would pay me to blog...
...then again, it would probably only lose its luster if they did.

And so it is that I must get back to my oh-so-exciting federal bailout summaries in the hopes that I can make enough money to support my acting habit. I'm keeping my chin up, though. It could be worse... I could be waiting tables. Experience has shown that I'm a pretty crappy waitress anyhow.