I keep promising I'll be regular at this and I keep falling off the wagon. So today I'm back, and I'll do a bit on the perils of being a self-employed writer.

The boss is brutal. She always wants more than I have to give. I long for the GOD (Good Old Days) when my boss said, "work smarter, not harder." Someday I'll share my writing technique and you'll see why that's impossible. The hours are never-ending. Literally. I picked up pen and paper at 12:30 a.m. last night - this morning - because an idea came to me and I've learned from experience to write it or lose it.

The money is peanuts. I write a regular column for a quarterly journal at $50 a shot so it keeps me in McDonald's for a while. I do a little other freelance work - trust me, not enough to worry the taxman.

Only one thing makes this self-employed life worthwhile. The satisfaction.

The first time my column won me a fan letter I was walking on air. (And that for a story I almost didn't bother to send because the ending's anything but happy). And when my editor called me "a find" she had me for life. And I get to work on my novels. Writing "THE END" is so cathartic. (I love that word). Now I just have to develop my skills at the dread synopsis, and who knows.

Next time I'll blog on the joys of writing the sex scene when your heroine is a prostitute and your hero hates women.

The things we must do to turn our men on. Yum.