So, as far as I can tell, this working from home thing is pretty much all it’s cracked up to be. I’ve now finished one whole job (editing a romance novel), and have barely left the house in five days. Of course, I’ve made my regular pilgrimages to the post office and the grocery store (buying sudafed figured prominently in my goals of late, but I am happily over that unpleasantness now) and I’ve taken a long walk every other day or so.
But I have mostly stayed home, reading a trashy romance novel. In excruciatingly exquisite detail. Ya know how, when you’re reading for fun, you can kind of skim over the silly, overly expository, tedious bits? Natch, you can’t skim over anything when editing… which really isn’t so bad.
I’ll admit that I’ve become a bit of a lazy reader in the last decade or so. I’ve gotten so complacent in my voraciousness that I now realize I skim over a lot of narrative. This lucrative little exercise has helped me to realize that a more careful reading can brighten any text.
Let’s just say, I enjoyed reading this historical/fantasy/romance/bodice-ripper a hell of a lot more than I expected to. Part of that, I suppose, is simple gratitude for having such a great way of earning money. But a fair bit of it is truly derived from being forced to read something that I would normally sneer at, and finding joy in it in unexpected ways.
Just thought I’d share.