Work ethic, rewarded

I got some good news yesterday.  I got a call from the head of the small press I've been doing editing work for, and he asked if I'd be available to edit some rougher work.  It would, "Of course," pay more.

More pay to do something I like?  Somehow, I managed not to squeal in his ear, and I think I even sounded professional and mature, maybe.

I've been flying high ever since on the rush of being appreciated, knowing that I must be doing a good job, and on the anticipation of more editing to come.  Of course, there is a small, minuscule part of me that wonders how I'm ever going to find time to write, if I'm always working for other people in my free time after work.  But, like I said in a comment last night, either I can use my free time to get work done on something with tangible rewards, or I can keep churning away at something that'll probably require yet more edits before it'll ever see a printed form, and whether it will is a big, fat if.

There is the knowledge, though, that I'm not incredibly efficient with my time.  I still check Twitter far more often than I should.  I still stare at pages hoping they'll magically refresh with some seed of brilliance that I would've missed if I hadn't been sitting right there.  I play with my hair.  I stay up far later than I should, trying hopelessly to squeeze some productivity out of 2 AM.

I can arrange my time more efficiently.  I can gain more self-control.  I can spend enough time on edits, and still have time for my own work.  In fact, some time studies have shown that switching between two productive tasks could prove FAR more efficient than switching between editing and internet browsing.

It's all about what I give myself permission to do and what standard I hold myself to.  I choose to hold myself to a standard where work comes before play, and where I prioritize what I've always wanted to do over what I've been doing to pass the time.