‘Tis the season for retrospectives, and I’ve been feeling pretty sorry for myself. Many of my prime writing markets have disappeared this past year, or have stopped using freelancers. Yes, I wrote a dog book that’s been well received, and that’s exciting. So was launching this blog. But they don’t pay the bills and won’t for a while, if at all.
And, as yesterday’s guest post at MyItchyTravelFeet.com reminded me, I used to be able to escape my troubles through travel. I’ve never grudged Frankie his care, but his diabetes has definitely put a crimp in my globe-trotting.
In the midst of this self-pity party, my “martyr alert” alarm went off. I realized that, in the time-honored tradition of anyone who’s ever shirked homework, I’d been blaming the dog.
It’s true that Frankie is not a stellar traveler. I’ve detailed his dislike of car rides in several June posts. Getting pee strip readings of his blood glucose on the road can be difficult too.
It’s also true that, if I decide to leave him at home, it’s more expensive than it once was to get someone to stay with him. Not everyone is able — or willing — to administer insulin shots.
But these are simply challenges, not insurmountable obstacles. Frankie did fine in San Diego, and bounced back quickly from any stress that might have affected his blood sugar levels. And if I do what I used to do — that is, vigorously pursue new markets for articles — I should be able to earn back any dog sitting fees I incur.
Alternatively, I can take a new direction and try to arrange talks and/or book signings in places I want to visit.
The bottom line: I’ve been using Frankie’s diabetes lately as an excuse for not facing my fears about this brave new world for writers. That’s got to stop. Frankie is way too small — and way too flexible — a pup to serve as a crutch.