For some people, Labor Day weekend is the last weekend of summer, a time to enjoy summer activities a final time before putting them away until next year.
For others, it's the first weekend of autumn, a time to start unearthing Halloween decorations, readying the yard for winter, and planning fall activities over a cup of pumpkin spice something.
For some, it's another working weekend, either by default or by choice.
I worked this past weekend. By choice and on purpose.
Writing is my job and my hobby. I love both.
When I was part of the weekend editor rotation, I always offered to work Labor Day. It was my way of expressing thankfulness for working a job I love. Not everyone is so blessed.
Now that I'm out of that rotation, I still work, although not all of the work is job-related.
For instance, I spent part of Friday afternoon presenting an abridged journalism seminar to area youth who are creating a newspaper with positive messages for other youth.
I spent most of Saturday and Sunday working my way through the remaining notes of eighteen months of interviews. The interviewee is a Joliet woman in her nineties. Her family hired me to ghost-write her memoir.
Those were two extremely productive days. I only need two more interviews, one more weekend of writing, and I'll have a draft she can read. She has already seen how the book will look in a template. It looks like, well, a book. And she cried when she saw it.
I updated an editing client on his novel.
On Monday, I worked all day on odds and ends of work-related projects.
Some were the ones that take time to complete but are impossible to tackle on deadline, and so keep getting pushed back.
Some were projects I normally handle on Monday.
Was the long weekend all work? No.
I visited a friend who has lung cancer on Saturday.
We had family financial meeting on Sunday.
I spent time time talking with Rebekah on Monday.
I called Sarah and talked with her, too, the first time since we came back from Raleigh.
I took two walks each day.
I stayed up late reading on Sunday night.
Today is my writing day, and I'm in good shape for it. That means, all my main interviews for this week's feature stories are done, and I spend the day writing drafts for all of them. It's an intense day, but it makes for a more streamlined week if they only need editing and layout.
It was a wonderful three-day weekend. I hope yours was just as good or better.
For others, it's the first weekend of autumn, a time to start unearthing Halloween decorations, readying the yard for winter, and planning fall activities over a cup of pumpkin spice something.
For some, it's another working weekend, either by default or by choice.
I worked this past weekend. By choice and on purpose.
Writing is my job and my hobby. I love both.
When I was part of the weekend editor rotation, I always offered to work Labor Day. It was my way of expressing thankfulness for working a job I love. Not everyone is so blessed.
Now that I'm out of that rotation, I still work, although not all of the work is job-related.
For instance, I spent part of Friday afternoon presenting an abridged journalism seminar to area youth who are creating a newspaper with positive messages for other youth.
I spent most of Saturday and Sunday working my way through the remaining notes of eighteen months of interviews. The interviewee is a Joliet woman in her nineties. Her family hired me to ghost-write her memoir.
Those were two extremely productive days. I only need two more interviews, one more weekend of writing, and I'll have a draft she can read. She has already seen how the book will look in a template. It looks like, well, a book. And she cried when she saw it.
I updated an editing client on his novel.
On Monday, I worked all day on odds and ends of work-related projects.
Some were the ones that take time to complete but are impossible to tackle on deadline, and so keep getting pushed back.
Some were projects I normally handle on Monday.
Was the long weekend all work? No.
I visited a friend who has lung cancer on Saturday.
We had family financial meeting on Sunday.
I spent time time talking with Rebekah on Monday.
I called Sarah and talked with her, too, the first time since we came back from Raleigh.
I took two walks each day.
I stayed up late reading on Sunday night.
Today is my writing day, and I'm in good shape for it. That means, all my main interviews for this week's feature stories are done, and I spend the day writing drafts for all of them. It's an intense day, but it makes for a more streamlined week if they only need editing and layout.
It was a wonderful three-day weekend. I hope yours was just as good or better.
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