The day (and night) job has been interfering a little with my writing and blogging over the last few days. That’s not unexpected — biglaw is a demanding mistress (and she beats me, too). I assume smalllaw is equally demanding, in its own way, but I’ve never worked on that side of the street, so I have no idea.
Last night I had a networking event to go to and got home too late to write. The night before, I was cruising along on the novel when I made the mistake of checking my Blackberry, and saw 20 new messages, all received after 8pm, on one of my cases where something had happened. The next day, it turned out to be insignificant, but it killed my concentration for the evening.
So I’m still working the day job, which is just as well since my total earned income from writing is zero, at least since college (I had a paid, part-time job writing news briefs and the local events calendar for a newspaper in high school, and I may have gotten a small stipend as an editor at the college newspaper; if so, it was small enough that I don’t remember it). The day job, as day jobs do, has its own demands, and that’s the way it should be; it’s why they pay me. That’s the gig, and it’s not a bad one. It just interferes with the writing sometimes.
Would I quit the day job even if Meet the Larssons sold a gazillion copies and was made into a summer blockbuster movie starring Matt Damon and Scarlett Johansson? The Mrs. thinks I wouldn’t, or that I’d go bananas if I did. I’m not so sure, but I’d like to find out, if anyone wants to test me.
I had a frenetically busy day at work today, largely because opposing counsel in a case I’m working on filed a bunch of motions on Friday, to be heard tomorrow morning, then mailed them. From out of state. We found about it purely by luck and got copies by email, but still.
Here’s a tip to the attorneys out there who think that’s acceptable: You should know there’s something wrong with you when other lawyers think you’re an asshole.
Logging onto my blog account this evening, though, I got a nice surprise: my first trackback! I didn’t actually know what trackbacks are, so I did a search on The Google and found this very helpful article by Dave Taylor, suggesting that many trackbacks are from spammers, as, unfortunately, was mine. But still! A spammer — a professional marketer — thinks my blog is worth hitching a ride on! The three of you out there who occasionally read this blog (hi, Mrs. Unfocused!) must be very important consumers. Try to step up the consuming, though. The economy’s going in the tank.
I’m posting against a timer tonight — only 15 minutes for this post, because I brought too much work home that has to get done by tomorrow morning. I had to catch the 6pm train home tonight if I wanted to have dinner with the Mrs., Princess, and Junior, because tomorrow is the first day back at school for the kids and we needed to put them to bed closer to their regular 8pm bedtime. We got them down just before 8:30, which isn’t bad considering they needed a bath and have been going to bed well after 9 for the entire winter break. Everyone managed with a minimum of fuss and bother, which was a nice surprise, and Junior even cleaned up his toys after dinner without screaming about it (the brownie that was waiting for him when he was done was a powerful incentive).
Once the kids are back on their regular schedule, I expect to start getting into work earlier — I’ve been getting in to the office at 9:30 or later since New Year’s. I have court tomorrow at the Daley Center at 9:30, so I need to be downtown by 9 at the latest, though, because I forgot to throw the file in my briefcase before I ran out into the rain to catch the train. I’ll have to get up early, since I want to get another run in before the weather goes back to normal.
Walking back to the office after running some errands during lunch today, I saw a small group of anti-war protesters holding up a big yellow banner urging an end to the war, and others holding anti-Bush signs. I had forgotten that the President was in town today (despite having to look at the enormous picture of him looking completely befuddled on the front page of the Sun-Times this morning — not what I wanted to see over my oatmeal), and his motorcade was apparently on its way down Dearborn. I debated staying to stick out my tongue, or moon him, or glare disapprovingly as he drove by — I didn’t have the time or materials to make a big “God hates fascist pigs” sign — but I decided that it wouldn’t make me feel any better, and he wouldn’t care, and I didn’t want to waste a billable quarter-hour.
My 15 minutes were up a couple of minutes ago. Back to the grind.