My advance cheque came in! My advance cheque came in!
Yes, I know I’ve already submitted the manuscript. But my advance cheque came in!
Now I’ll deposit it tomorrow morning, wait four weeks, and then magically have money once again. I know I’ve worked damned hard for it, but it feels like a gift. Knowing there’s another hefty cheque in a couple of months to complete the manuscript payment is even more delicious. Plus the two cheques paying me for the two books I’ve edited due out this fall… yes, indeed, I’m feeling much more financially with it.
Even more awe-inspiring to me is the knowledge that I’m actually being paid for doing work in the field I studied (both fields I’ve studied, actually).
No, the money’s still more impressive. I’m thankful for the working in my field thing, impressed at the fact that someone is paying me for it.
I slept really well last night, and woke up to discover that it was 6.58 AM, and HRH’s alarm hadn’t gone off. It actually hadn’t not gone off, it was set for the proper time, but when our power went out yesterday morning and I reset the clocks, I remember making sure that I set it to the AM time. Although now I have a nibbling suspicion that when I went back to check it, I reset it again to the opposite of what it was, assuming that I had forgotten to do so in the first place.
All’s well, though; HRH woke up just fine, got ready and left in twenty minutes, plenty of time to pick up his passenger at 7.30. I made tea and brought the Sense & Sensibility Screenplay to bed with me, read it from start to finish, and then Emma Thompson’s simply killing film diaries which follow it. The only film I ever worked on was lots of waiting about and not knowing what was happening next, cutting lines left right and centre, and bagels (don’t ask), with no fun or chumminess at all. When I’d done reading I felt like popping in the Pride & Prejudice DVDs, although that would cut severely into the writing jam this afternoon.
It’s the last writing jam for a while, as most of us are here and there over the summer, and one will be working a six-month contract as of any day now. We ought to come up with goals or schedules and check up on one another anyway. E-mail each other work, and such.
Difficult to remember that I’m flying out to Hamilton on Thursday afternoon. I ought to put neon asterisks around the note on the calendar.
Thanks to a meeting last night, everyone’s back on an even keel, on the same page, and there were even visual aids provided by HRH, who sketched neat little cars and drew people inside them as we worked out transportation to our annual spiritual retreat down in Pennsylvania.
Oh, and the Second Cup’s frozen hot chocolate? Delectable. You can actually taste real chocolate. I might skip the whipped cream on top next time, although after drinking the rest of the deliciousness the whipped cream ended up at the bottom, flavoured with the remaining chocolate. I’ll have to be in a decadent mood to order the whipped cream again. The drink itself, though — a definite winner. And what do you know, there’s a Second Cup only ten minutes away from me…