My Instructions
The coolest thing about my new life is that I don’t have one manager. Rather, I can submit written work, or bid for work, and accept or reject tasks at will. wtf am I talking about? I’ve been doing freelance work for the past three weeks and mostly love it. Most interesting have been my instructions.
I receive editorial guidelines from various publications and editors (in additions to rejections and demands of course). Usually instructions come in the form of a lot of legalese in bullet format, and a really long manual demanding MLA or Chicago style citations.
But occasionally, I’ll get instructions that are really amusing. One morning I receive a typical bullet pointed legally binding invitation to do no less than ten articles, in a very formal style. Excellent, it’s work. I have work. Praise God, I have work. I have no idea how I’m going to complete ten very technical articles in the proscribed period of time while caring for a small child and attempting to get sleep. But hooray, I have work.
Evening, I receive a note from a humor editor at a very different publication saying yes, work on that query followed by brief instructions: just don’t post any naked pictures.
For real?
I went back and read it again. Yes, my instructions include expletives and say don’t post any naked pictures. They are not one third the length of any other instructions I have received. And the editors signature is a gif that is totally R rated. I laughed so hard I woke up DD. She came toddling out with bedhead hair demanding to know what is so funny. Of course, that’s why I want to write for insane publication, even the corporate email is funny.
I tell DH. He says, you’re going to write for them? He is staring at me as though an alien has landed beside him. I am completely unrecognizable to him. I am so not even close to being that funny to him that he cannot comprehend of it. I turn the screen toward him. He frowns. He asks wth did I send them? I say, a writing sample. He says, don’t tell his mother. Then he goes back to his pc and tries to ignore my laughter.
He has been telling me to be very careful for two days now. Drive carefully. Be very careful today. I wonder what he thinks I am going to do? I am not going to ask him.
He is telling you to be careful? Is there a hit out on you or something? That must be some seriously funny stuff you’re writing
He says stuff like that. He’s probably concerned that one of his friends will read something I write and omg, how embarrassing.
Or that I’ll get excited and drive somewhere in a hurry and lose my license or something.
Of course I told his mother. lol. I’m lucky to have a nice MIL.