groovy contemplation

I've felt loopy, which is why I haven't posted. I'm fighting cold #3 of the season, which leads me to think that either a) there are a lot of bad viruses this year or b) my immune system's stressed or c) both.

I'm staring into space, which might be because of cold medicine. It also might be because I'm at a crossroads. The latest small snowstorm slowed life down and provided us with ample time to look out the window, take snowy walks, and enjoy the winter weather.



Part of my contemplation is this. I've now been freelancing as a writer and designer longer than I've done any other single job in my adult life. In some ways, it's been a success and gives me lots of pleasure--my recent grant from the Arts Council, for instance, or finding out that the yarn museum posted my latest silk skein online in their Anything Goes Gallery . (scroll to the right, you'll see my Kool-Aid silk there)

In other ways, it's been a struggle, even as I've had more articles and designs published. I've recently discussed some of this with Lynae as I've tried to sort things out. I'm a stickler for having patterns edited, for working with editors to do final, detailed readings of my patterns, even if the editors sometimes resent this. Yet, designing is not a lucrative--or even financially viable--field if you want to pay your bills. In my efforts to market my patterns without traditional publishing, I've tried some self-publishing on my website. While that's been rewarding creatively, it also hasn't been a huge success. For instance, I've only sold two Heart's Ease sock patterns. Since there are fees associated with selling via paypal, etc., I've made $7.16 off that design. It means that it's a labor of love, but not a living. I depend on article and photo sales for actual income...and it's not much.

I've been thinking about this, especially because I had one dependable ongoing university freelance job terminated, out of the blue, last week, without explanation. I suspect it's because they've run out of funds, but as a freelancer, no one owes me any more information.
What are my new goals? Where should I go next? What is my next big challenge? What's next on the horizon?

Sally the dog reminds me of creative joy whenever we mention "dinner" or a "walk". Here she is, doing her groovy dance of excitement, accompanied by urgent staccato barks, while the professor fixes her dinner.


I still feel this way, ready to bark and dance, about the creative aspects of what I do. Knitting for a few hours gives me a reassurance, a meditative bliss, and I'm captivated by the milky-tea light of the night sky before a good snowstorm. I want my "creative" snowstorm to be one that brings much needed water for the next growing season, peace, and beauty to the landscape. I don't want it to flood the basement and in the end, cost me money rather than bring me abundance. It's no wonder I'm pausing at the crossroads. In a big enough storm, one could get lost.