I am officially part of a freelance writers group. I was invited by the fabulous Toni (Yes, I now sound like one of those BlogHer chicks with my "she's so fabulous" routine. But Toni!! Is!! Fabulous!! Why? Let me tell you.)
1. She's a mom of 3 boys, freelances, and organized/leads this group of 18 women from all over the country who make their living freelancing for magazines. I'm the latest to be invited (suckaaasz!)
2. She not only has this group, but it's all through Google Email. You can organize by topics and respond via these lists where everyone can see the topic, and everyone can respond. (Did I just say the same thing twice? Yes I did. Did I yes. I'm too punch drunk to change it so I figure I'll just keep on typing. If you're still reading than the joke's on you. On! You! Joke!) Back to my original point: Let me just say that 18 women commenting on 18 questions a day, which inevitably leads to 100000 more comments? LOTS of emails. I gotta tame that beast before I crash my computer. My new email? OnePublishedMamaWhiletheRestOfYouHaveAZillionCreditsJokesOnYou@MamaP.com
3. Toni is all about sharing contacts and giving out compliments. The big underlying theme of the group? You can't be mean. Only supportive. Huh. And these women make money? Is Toni nuts? Let's hope this is a revolution. We all need to do this. Right after we sleep.
4. She is heading up big retreat #1 in an effort to bring everyone together for a big girls' weekend/writing fest. If these gals keep emailing in sync, we're all going to be on our periods at the same time. That should make for a hell of a retreat. As in "I gotta retreat out of this place NOW."
Why is everything I am saying using slang like "gotta?" Could it be that it's 12:01 am and I can't sleep due to a million Ebay photos I just took? Also I'm thinking about my plus size shipment that just came in which I will be flipping on Ebay (more to come later. Any ladies out there size 12 and up... I have BEAUTIFUL stuff - Tommy Hilfiger, Polo, etc. You get the big ol discount for reading my shit for all this time. Or if you don't want to buy, which is fine, I am going to teach you how to Ebay so you can be self sufficient. What if your husband or partner got hit by a bus? That's Rex's and my official death vehicle of choice. You have to have a back-up plan. Mine was to write for Friends and then marry Matthew Perry, but now I'm onto Plan B. Marrying a computer geek and waiting to be flattened by the Metro.)
Why else am I happy? Even with talk about being mashed by public transportation?... I just finished my essay for Child Magazine. Two weeks early. I'm scared to turn it in for fear they will think I didn't take much time. Which I didn't. But I really like it. Seriously... it's pretty good. And if the editor is reading, let's all just pretend that I am working diligently on it at this very moment rather than wondering how a size 22/24 stretch pant equivalates to a 3X halter top.
I have a happiness headache.