Darna and the Routine

On my white board, I have written the tasks I should accomplish this week. True to the description of my freelance profession (writing/editing/translation), the tasks consist of two major writing projects, one translation work, and one editing endeavor. When I was working as full time book editor at OMF Lit, it always seemed that a book was never finished until I could actually smell and feel its spine. When I started freelancing, I lost the privilege of ever seeing the final product, unless the client decides to give me a complimentary copy. But similar to full time book publishing, polishing manuscripts as a freelancer is like running in a marathon.

As dictated on my whiteboard, I need to polish work for my clients of the past three to five months. One editing work needs to be re-done to meet style-sheet requirements which the client sent as an after thought. Another client who should have given me feedback last December to a final draft of the writing I did for her newsletter has called to say she is sorry that she wasn’t able to comply, and that she is now, in March, going to mail the feedback. In a past managing editing project the reviewer of the final drafts of essays for typesetting said that certain pieces need to go back to the writers because they should be using popular Tagalog and not the dialect variety. (The reviewer was so busy all that time that she couldn’t sit down and review the first drafts with me, and said she’d look at the final drafts instead.) All of these projects have been fully paid for, but freelance projects, in my experience, do not end when I’ve finally collected my professional fees.

To meet my deadlines, I need to follow a strict routine schedule. This week, one writing project demands foremost attention and I will give two and a half days for that. (A day starts from 8:30 in the morning to 12:00 noon, and from 3:00 in the afternoon to 10:00 in the evening.) The translation assignment falls on the remaining two and a half days, (excluding Friday because, I teach Writing Composition on that day.) What happens then to the editing project? It goes into the overtime slot (between 1:00 to 3:00), a time to rest my eyes from staring too long at the computer, and a time where I can read hard copy at a relaxed pace while sitting, standing, or lying down (the only perk of working at home). This is not always the case with editing. But this time, my editing project takes the least priority slot. (From 1:00 pm to 3:00 pm is also a time when I wash the dishes, sweep the floor, dust the furniture and do other easy occasional housework.) Miscellaneous “after-thoughts" of previous clients are glaring tasks “to-do” on the white board, but I’m so sorry that I can only attend to them later (meaning, when I'm done with the rest).

All my present projects are due in three to four weeks plus two weeks allowance to respond to feedback. With this heavy load, no Home Box Office Movie is enticing enough to take my eyes off from my computer. I have only one reason for not being able to attend meetings: I simply can't leave the house. But it’s funny that when out of the blue, MAI Asia asked me if I could help facilitate a one week writing seminar (which meant that six days would be subtracted from the set routine above) I immediately said “Yes”, thinking only later about the repercussions. Maybe I got excited because I was feeling the pangs of my ever increasing isolation. Maybe, I was hoping to somehow cheat clockwork. But together with my excitement about this invitation was a deep, steady stirring that said something wasn’t timely, although somehow I rationalized that this would be a healthy break for me. But I can't say to my clients that their projects need to be suspended because I'm going out of town. I don't have the privilege of a fifteen-day leave that full-time workers can avail of. So I ended up thinking, "If I do this, then, when will I sleep?" Imagine preparing for a one-week workshop! It wouldn't be a healthy break after all but it would definitely break my routine. If you're a freelancer, you will also appreciate how costly this is. And how unrealistic! Even darna can't do this. So when the workshop was cancelled, I felt relieved. I didn't have to swallow that stone anymore. Suddenly, I felt comfort because I have the familiar, the ordinary, the routine. I looked again at my white board, and albeit my superheroine streak, I was happy, and smiled.