So for quite some time now, I've had two books percolating, which I work on haphazardly, and then this children's story. Now I am actually doing some freelance grant consulting work (I can't say grant writing because my client hasn't actually asked me to do that), which is okay. More on this in a moment. And now my dear friend Coolia has approached me with ideas for not one but two television shows and wants me to be part of her writing team.
Whew!
The "grant writing" meeting last Saturday went well, despite my arriving a bit late due to rain/last-minute car issues/Saturday afternoon traffic. I am being asked to edit a grant template and query letter, and to vet their list of prospective donors and provide recommendations on how to approach each one and how much money they should request from each. Since I have been in the fundraising business off and on for nearly ten years now (Holy shit!), this is no big deal to me, but the reaction of the committee was "Wow! This is great! You have no idea how much better this meeting was than our last meeting, we feel like we are finally getting somewhere, thank God you know what you're doing, we wish we could pay you for more than six hours of work, but clearly you are going to be able to work miracles in that paltry amount of time -- all hail Lisa the Magnificent!"
I think I mentioned already how I feel very odd when people look to me as the expert, but there you have it. Somehow I managed to gain their confidence, and for better or worse, access to some documents which indicated that they were willing to pay a consultant $15/hour more than they are paying me. I don't intend to use this against them, but I will be raising my rates to what is evidently market-value with any new clients I pick up after I'm through with this group. Especially since I just realized I have ten years experience in this bloody ridiculous field! They say time flies when you're having fun. My experience has been that time flies no matter what the hell you do, so you might as well enjoy yourself, right?
Hmmm...anyway, Coolia and I had dinner Monday night (sadly, she didn't drink this time, and also sadly, we didn't run into Ratboy) and she asked me what I thought about helping her write a sitcom. I know it is hellishly hard to write for TV, that if we write a pilot and it is picked up, the odds are against us that it will be successful, and that even if it is successful, the hours and the amount of work involved would break me like a twig. But nonetheless, I am on board, and so is our friend Xtal, and we are going to meet regularly and try and make this happen. Sweet William has a friend who writes for TV, so I am going to try and pick her brain about how we should get started.
Sleep. Sleep!
In other news, Viva and Sweet William both have colds and you know how much fun that is. I am so completely sleep-deprived that last night when Viva woke up at 11:30 (after we put her to bed at 7 and spiked her rice milk with Baby Tylenol-Cold to make her sleep), I melted down. Folks, it was not pretty. I put Viva in the bed with us and she started shrieking like I had laid her down on an anthill. I had just gotten back to sleep after passing out on the couch, being roused by Sweet Willie, and peeling my contact lenses out of my eyes. I had had enough.
I am not proud of this, but I'll be honest with you. I used the f-word, and I addressed it to my child. I said something to the effect of, "I can't take this, why won't you sleep, Viva, I am so fucking tired, I can't take this!" and stumbled out of the room, leaving Sweet William to deal with our little banshee. Unfortunately, he wasn't doing too much better, although at least he didn't cuss. I took a deep breath and went back in and calmed her down and of course we ended up back on the couch until 3-something-AM, when Willie woke me up by saying, "My poor wife!" He then put Viva back in the crib and I stumbled back to bed, where I lay awake for at least 30 minutes before going back to sleep.
But here's the best part, where you can see once again that I have The Best Husband Ever. Viva woke up at 6:30. Willie dressed her, put her in the car and went to the supermarket. When I got up at about 7:45, he was feeding her a smoothie and a scone. After a little huggy time on the couch, he then took her to the park and gave me the whole morning to myself! They didn't come home until nearly noon. We had lunch, put Viva down for her nap, and I gave myself a facial and a pedicure. Viva will be up shortly and you can be sure that she will see a completely rejuvenated Mama Bird. Squawk!
We are off tomorrow to Oceanside for Easter and all the accompanying madness. There will be ham, there will be roast beef, and evidently, there will be cheesecake. And three small children tearing about looking for eggs. Peace out.
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