The Worst Part of This Job
The worst part of this job has always been and will always be editors. Ask a simple question about a comment made and the editor will launch into a rant about why it doesn't work, why it can't work ... and all I think is, "You didn't get it at all, and it seems plain to me."
Editors are failed writers. Some are great. Many aren't. Mondays seem like the day I deal with idiots. I ask a simple question about a manuscript. I get a simple answer to a totally different question. I wonder if I could ask it another way. I can't. I don't know how to ask it another way. All I know is that it was misunderstood. Perhaps that is my fault. Perhaps not. It's happened enough with many different editors that I sometimes wonder if they really know what their readers want.
Today I got e-mails from people I hadn't heard from in a while. One is an actress/singer, the other a lawyer I know from working with on some writing stuff from a while back. It was good to hear from both of them. The actress never got enough roles, and I've said as much several times over. She's good. Very good. The lawyer is also good at his job, but his taste in movies is questionable at best. He really got on my case about me writing for the Amateur Porn Star Killer series. He asks if anyone's been sued yet or prosecuted because of it, and I wrote back that he would be the guy I would recommend to defend director Shane Ryan if it ever came to that. I don't think he'll like to hear that, but I think he would understand.
With my back pain kicking into high gear, and my stress level being super high, I'm buckling and seeing a doctor. I don't want to be bed ridden or taken from either job due to inability to work, so I am taking care of this. I fear what they will say, but it needs to be done.
I'm tired. Wiped out. Lack of sleep caused by stress is taking its toll, too. That's even worse than the back pain. I don't want to take sleeping pills, but I fear it may come to that. I can't continue to survive on three to four hours of sleep a night. I refuse to get a 215 card because that's not me, and I don't really want to rely on medicine, but I'm starting to wonder if I have a choice.
I need some sleep. My eyes are fighting to stay open. I'll lay down and I'll fall asleep almost instantly. I won't stay that way, though. I'll get up and be up until I have to take a shower and hit the road. That sucks. That's no way to live. That's stress destroying me because I can't help but think of things constantly.
I do not know what else to do.