A couple weeks ago, I was complaining about the dearth of newsworthy events happening in my towns, which meant little to actually write about. Today, I'm complaining about the opposite: too much news; not enough me.
I arrived at work this morning with a feeling of intense anxiety. My habit of creating to-do lists is helpful (in theory) at keeping track of all the stories I have to write on a weekly basis, but it proves to be a bit counter-productive when I'm continuously adding to it, thus adding to my anxiety. What's the point of writing a list to cross items off of when I'm never going to actually finish said list? It's like the Energizer bunny, it just keeps going and going and, well, you get the idea... Today, when I arrived at my desk and set up my laptop, I realized the list I had been working on before I left work Friday was more than half-completed. Only two stories remained unfinished and I had all the necessary information for them, all I had to do was write them. Oh joy! My anxiety lifted with that realization. I could relax!
Fast forward two minutes when I open my e-mail to find a message from my editor, subject line: Last minute story idea.... oh good grief, really?
Almost immediately, I felt my chest tighten and my heart rate spike. I no sooner finish writing one story that I get assigned two more. And once those two are finished, I'll likely be assigned two more....each. That's four extra stories for those of you keeping track.
They say when it rains, it pours. Well, today I'm getting drenched.
That motor vehicle fire story I wrote about last week? ... I had to rework it today when there was another motor vehicle fire in the same neighborhood days later. I took 131 photos at the first fire; for the second I'll admit I got lazy and only took 30 pictures. And last night the local fire department was dispatched for smoke in a building. I only went out of sheer curiosity, but managed to get a clear, crisp photo with "the good camera." I may enjoy following the fire department around but what I forget is that once I get these pictures, I have to A) sort through them and B) write about them. Kinda kills the fun, in retrospect.
On a lighter note, Jim Parsons won for best actor in a comedy series during the Emmys last night, which thrilled me to no end. I shrieked with joy when they announced his name. I'm not kidding, ask Doc. I'm surprised he can hear today...
Uh oh... My editor just placed an obituary notice on my desk; I'm guessing I have to write it. See what I mean? I better type slowly, lest two more obits arrive upon its completion.
To work, to work, to work I go...
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