Anniversary
On October 12, 2004, I went to work as a writer/editor for a university alumni magazine, ending a 17-year freelance-only career. I can still recall the strangeness of that day, the sound of high heels on the hard floor as a designer dropped off page proofs for me to read, the lunch I shared with two new colleagues. I even remember the outfit I wore, which included sandals because I hadn't yet gotten around to buying "work shoes."
Though I've long since grown used to the routine, some days it still seems slightly surreal to trade sweatpants and slipper socks for a skirt and flats, to travel elsewhere to do what I do at home all the time anyway. But the routine has enlarged me, has given me plenty to think and write about, has helped me feel closer to the place I live.
Writing will never be just a job to me. But for many of my waking hours these days, that's exactly what it is.
Though I've long since grown used to the routine, some days it still seems slightly surreal to trade sweatpants and slipper socks for a skirt and flats, to travel elsewhere to do what I do at home all the time anyway. But the routine has enlarged me, has given me plenty to think and write about, has helped me feel closer to the place I live.
Writing will never be just a job to me. But for many of my waking hours these days, that's exactly what it is.
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