In the past I’ve talked about the editing process, and how whenever I edit someone else’s work I seem to leave footprints in their text.

Well, I think I’ve finally conquered that problem.

Today I received an advanced copy of “A practical guide to Information Architecture”, the book I spend a month or so editing for my friend Donna Spencer. (It gets officially released on the 8^th of June.) And as I started reading it I saw my name in the list of credits. “Editor: Bill Harper”

It was an incredibly satisfying feeling. I worked really hard on the manuscript, and it was great to see my name along with the rest of the production crew. (The publishers have since asked if I’d be interested in working on other projects. Two words: “Hell yeah!”)

But then I read the acknowledgements page, and I was blown away. Here’s what Donna said about me:

“My editor Bill Harper was amazing. I looked at the first chapters he sent back and thought he hadn’t done anything – I couldn’t see any differences. But he had done tons of work – he’d managed to improve my writing out of sight and still keep it sounding just like me. Bill, I hope you can edit for me for every other book I write (and I’m glad you’re my friend).”

Now I’ll admit I was lucky: Donna and I have very similar writing styles, and so it was nowhere near as difficult as it could have been. But still, it was great to see she couldn’t even see where I’d been until she actually compared the two versions. Not a footprint in sight.

If you’re reading this Donna, I can’t thank you enough. For your friendship, for your faith in my abilities, and for your kind words that have done more for me than you can possibly imagine. And I would be honoured to edit every other book you write.

There’s a great scene in the movie “(500) Days of Summer” where they show two versions of the same scene side-by-side. On the left is what the male lead thinks will happen (“Expectations”), and on the right is what actually happens (“Reality”). And of course, reality doesn’t come close to matching his expectations.

When I started this blog, I too had expectations (or more accurately, “delusions”) of how it would all pan out. After a successful day’s freelancing (even if only during my lunch break at the regular job) I’d come home and spend some quality time with my wife and son. After dinner, we’d bath our son (more quality time together), give him his final bottle and put him to bed. We might watch some television together, or just have a quiet chat.

And then I’d come here to write another blog post.

It could be about anything—a report on how the day went, or maybe just something on my mind that I want to talk about. But whatever the topic, it would be my chance to relax and unwind. It would be my dessert, or maybe that final drink before bed.

Unfortunately the reality hasn’t come anywhere near my expectations.

Thanks to various pressing deadlines (not to mention lunchtime meetings), I’ve been lucky if I get to eat lunch, let alone work on my freelancing. By the time we’ve had dinner, bathed our son and put him to bed, it’s close to nine o’clock. By the time I finish the blog it’s well after ten, and then I go to bed and crash until the alarm goes off at five-thirty the following morning.

(On weekends we switch off the alarm, and get woken up by our son instead. But it’s still around the same time.)

And so, despite promising myself this would be the year I’d become a freelancer (if only part-time to begin with), the whole thing has pretty much stalled.

And now I’m trying to find the time to get it going again.

So what are my options? Well, one option would be to stop blogging, or at least slow down the posting a bit (I’d still like dessert every once in a while). That would give me an extra few hours a week. How productive I’d be is another story, because by the time I sit in front of the keyboard I’m already falling asleep (as some of you have probably worked out by now).

Another option is to try and find more time during my day. I spend 40 minutes on trains each day, and providing I can get a seat I could at least draft some notes, or even do a bit of research. (If I tried doing either of these while standing up I’d end up hurting someone.)

Daylight Savings finishes soon, which should put an end to the lunchtime meetings. (It only happens because we’re an hour behind our head office.) If I ignore my email, switch my phone to voicemail, ignore my instant messages and wear my noise-cancelling headphones, I can probably get another hour a day.

I have some long service leave up my sleeve, and so if I really wanted to (and my bosses gave me the go-ahead) I could take a fortnight or so off to work on the freelancing stuff. But I don’t think now is a good time to do something like that. I’m still very green, and so I’d waste a lot of the time fumbling my way around. I’d much rather wait until I know what I’m going so I can make the most of the time I have.

I could take another day off each fortnight, making it a four-day week. It sounds fantastic, but I’d have to take a serious look at our finances (and try not to laugh too hard) before I could do something like that.

Of course, the ideal solution would be to give up the regular job and just write all day instead. But while poverty might be worth considering when you’re young and single, it isn’t really option when you’ve got a family and a mortgage.

Sorry if it seems like you’ve just caught me thinking out loud. But this is what’s been on my mind lately, especially with the regular job heading in a direction I don’t particularly want to go. This is my escape plan, and by the looks of things I’ll need it sooner rather than later.

Today I got a taste of what it would be like to write for a living. Or, in this case, edit.

As I mentioned a few weeks ago, I’m editing a book manuscript for a friend of mine. So far it’s been a bit hard finding more than a few hours amongst everything else going on—the regular job, family commitments, etc. But today I got to spend pretty much the entire day on it.

I didn’t get to spend quite as much time on it as I would have liked. Our son had a restless night last night, which meant we all had a restless night. (Parenting tip: Got small children? Buy a king-size bed if you can possibly afford it. Believe me, you’ll thank me later.) So it took a little while (not to mention a large Ice Break) to get the brain in gear.

There was also the small matter of having a blood test, which always makes me nervous. (A few years ago I had one and managed to faint not once but twice. In the end I had to lie down in the recovery room for an hour or so. Not a very pleasant way to spend a morning.)

But with that little drama out of the way (no problems this time around), I got a good four or five hours editing in before I had to pick up my son.

And I have to tell you, it felt pretty damn good.

Don’t get me wrong. I still want to be a freelancer, writing my own articles and getting them published. But I’ve always enjoyed editing (and not just because I like the colour red), and I think I’d be quite happy doing it professionally—at least for a while.

Who knows? Maybe it’s a combination of the two that will see me finally break free of the regular job and live the dream of being a full-time writer.

Though hopefully without the blood tests.

Today was going to be a lazy day. Run a few errands. Maybe catch up with a friend for lunch in the city. Maybe even head down to the Gold Coast and sit on the beach for a few hours.

And then I remembered: I’ve got a book manuscript to edit.

(If you’re reading this, Donna, I still want to do the work, honest. It just slipped my mind, that’s all.)

As it turns out I could have sat on the beach for a while because I didn’t do any editing today. Instead I read the first chapter of Donna’s manuscript a few times to get her writing voice firmly in my head so I don’t end up destroying it.

In an earlier post I talked about how I seem to have found my writing voice (although every time I say that I’m waiting for someone to ask, “Don’t you mean ‘style’?”), and that the more I write the stronger it’s becoming.

That’s great for when I’m writing my own stuff. But when I’m editing someone else’s, it can make things really difficult.

I haven’t worried about it too much at the regular job, because there’s never really been a voice for me to destroy. People really aren’t interested in that kind of thing. They just want it edited and out the door so they can get on with their real work.

But I’m starting to get other editing work from people who do have a voice, and I have to work really hard not to destroy it.

Fortunately for me Donna’s writing voice is nice and relaxed like mine, and so I won’t feel the need to rewrite great chunks of it. It’ll be more like tweaking the text rather than changing it.

But if I want to do more of this kind of thing (and while I’m still keen to write features it is an option), then I’ll have to work out a way to keep myself out of other people’s work.

And that’s not going to be easy.

My wife’s out celebrating her best friend’s birthday, and so it’s just me and my two-year-old son at home tonight. But he fell asleep a few hours ago, and so I’m relaxing with a Kahlua and Coke at my side, my wife’s Macbook Pro on my lap, and “Yes Man” on my television.

Okay, so I chose it so I could see Zooey Deschanel again. (It was a toss-up between this one and “(500) Days of Summer”.) But I also like the movie, and the way I feel when I finish watching it: I want to do that too.

No, I don’t want to learn Korean or fly a plane (I’m nervous enough being a passenger, let alone a pilot). And I’m not sure I’d ever have enough guts to bungee jump, although watching Jim Carrey do it for the first time makes me think it could be a lot of fun.

But I’d love to be able to play an instrument well (as opposed to the trial-and-error keyboard playing I do now). And I really like the idea of just going to the airport and flying to some random destination (even though I’d be digging my fingers into the armrest most of the way).

The thing is, I’ve never been much of a risk-taker. Sure, I’ve stepped out of my comfort zone a few times—jet skiing in Vanuatu, parasailing in Vila, competing in the Triple J Raw Comedy heats—but it doesn’t happen very often. If there’s a safer option, I’ll usually take it. Especially if it involves my son.

My wife has a nickname for me: Mister Safety. It’s a name I don’t always appreciate, but usually deserve. And one I’d dearly love to shake off.

So I think it’s time I started saying “Yes” instead of “Maybe”, which becomes “No” when the opportunity passes us by. It’s time to not just step out of my comfort zone, but to stay there.

Becoming a freelancer will certainly play a big part. Having a secure job with a secure pay cheque is nice, but after nearly 20 years in the same organisation (doing largely the same job) I feel as if I’m in not so much a routine as a rut. Hopefully freelancing will be a way to dig myself out.

But I want to go beyond that. I want to feel like I did when I was up in that parasail, and on that stage. And my wife is more than willing to look after our son on her own so I can do it. (She probably wants me to do this even more than I do.)

I wouldn’t mind giving stand-up comedy another go. It’s been a long time since I was up on stage, but if nothing else I have a lot more material to draw from now. There’s even a workshop here in Brisbane I could go to. (Trivia: I once interviewed the guy who runs it for a feature as part of my journalism course.)

I’ve also thought of trying my hand at Improv Comedy. (Yes, there’s a workshop for that too.) I love watching it (my wife took me to the finals for my birthday many years ago), and I think I’d enjoy it.

Of course, what would be great is if I could do all this stuff, and then write it up as a feature and get it published somewhere. If that happened I may even do that bungee jump just so I can write about it. I even know how the first paragraph will start.

“Aaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrgh!”

A week or so I talked about the 130-odd writing books I have in my bookcase, and how I’ve read all but a dozen of them.

Well, I’ve actually read some of them three or four times. Not to learn anything new (although I seem to every time I read them), but to be reassured that I can do it for a living. I can find good ideas. I can find the right magazine to pitch them to. I can find the people I need to interview. I can write the piece and get it published.

But sometimes I need something a little different. Sometimes I need to actually feel what it’s like to be doing it—chasing the stories, finding the interviews, and… well, being a writer.

And that’s where I turn to novels and movies.

Sure, they may be way off the mark compared to reality (though most of the novels I’ve read were written by newspaper reporters).  But for me they’re not so much education as inspiration. They help me remember why I’m doing this in the first place, how much better I’ll feel doing it.

I’m sure there are dozens of movies and hundreds of books out there that could do it for me, but here are the ones I’ve found so far that work for me. (If you have any suggestions on what else I can read/watch, please let me know.)

The novels

The Jack McMorrow series by Gerry Boyle. I picked up one of the books at the LifeLine Book Fair, and it sat on my bookshelf for ages. Finally got around to reading it, and loved it so much I started scouring second-hand bookshops to find the rest. (And I’ve just found out there’s a new one coming out in May. Woo hoo!)

The Britt Montero series by Edna Buchanan. Can’t quite remember how I got hooked on this series (it may have been after reading an interview with her in Writer’s Digest or something), but I’m glad I did. Not sure how closely this resembles the police beat on a newspaper, but I really don’t care.

The Jack McEvoy books (“The Poet” and “The Scarecrow”) by Michael Connelly. Found out about The Scarecrow on Twitter, and then discovered The Poet also had a newspaper reporter as the main character. Enjoyed them, but it’s a pity Jack got thrown off the story so early in both.

“Dinner for two” by Mike Gayle. Okay, so the main character in this one is a music writer turned agony uncle. But it still gives me the feeling of what it would be like writing for a magazine. And I enjoy his writing.

The movies

All the Presidents Men. When I started my journalism course I bought this, watched it, and then read the book. Whenever I got a bit discouraged about my assignments (my court reporting assignment was almost a complete failure) I’d watch this movie and feel like a journalist again.

Finding Forrester. Okay, so this has nothing to do with freelancing or feature writing (well, not much). But after watching this I feel as if the words will come quickly and effortlessly when my fingers hit the keys. And sometimes it actually turns out to be true.

Shattered Glass. Okay, so this may seem like a weird choice. After all, the character turns out to be a complete fraud. But I like to think I can be the writer he pretended to be—the one who met some amazing people and got to write about them.

I’ve probably forgotten a heap of movies and books I have in my collection. But I know there are plenty more books and movies about the writing life I haven’t even heard of. So please, let me know what they are, and what they do for you.

After all, why should my office bookcase get all the attention.

If this is what you feel like at the end of the day when you’re not a corporate desk jockey, then I’m ready to quit now. Actually, I’ve been ready to quit for a while. It’s my family and our bank manager who need me to keep working.

I pretty much did what I set out to do. After dropping my son off at day care, I went to the local shopping centre and relaxed with an iced coffee before buying a few DVDs I’ve had my eye on.

After that I drove to the beach and walked along the path skirting the shoreline for a couple of kilometres, gentle music playing on my iPhone. It would have been nicer to trudge through the sand, but there wasn’t any. And trudging through pebbles just isn’t the same.

I found a cafe with a lovely view of the ocean, and watched the waves lap the shore whole eating chicken salad and drinking a bottle of sparkling mineral water. (Yeah, I know. Wine would probably be more appropriate. But I don’t drink wine.)

After demolishing the salad I rummaged around in my backpack for my writing pad, a pen and my copy of the Australian Writer’s Marketplace. It turns out I’d left that book at home, but fortunately I had a copy of Jenna Glatzer’s “Make a real living as a freelance writer”, and used that to think up story ideas instead. By the time I’d finished the bottle I’d filled three or four pages with ideas.

By the time I walked back to the car I was buzzing. I was also very sweaty. So I drove home, had a shower, and then relaxed in front of the television as I watched “(500) Days of Summer“. (Yes, I’m in love with Zooey Deschanel. But it’s okay—my wife already knows.)

It was a great day. And I learned a few things as well.

Saying you’ll sit at a cafe with an ocean view is one thing. Actually finding a cafe with an ocean view is another thing, because there’s no “cafes with an ocean view” section in the telephone directory. (If anyone can recommend one in Brisbane, please let me know.)

Sitting on the beach with a writing pad and pen may sound like a great way to write, but in reality you get really sweaty (if not burnt to a crisp) and the breeze keeps flipping pages on you.

Zooey Deschanel looks even more beautiful in high definition.

And I can’t wait to give up the day job.

Every second Monday is Freelancing Day for me, and I’ve just realised it’s coming around again tomorrow. I wasn’t in the office at all last week, so I lost track of when it was. (Hmm. Wonder if everyone knows. “Um, guys? I’ve got tomorrow off, okay? Check the calendar.”)

So far it’s been a great idea that hasn’t quite worked out the way I wanted to. Instead of researching markets, drafting query letters and writing articles I’ve been doing dishes, washing clothes and vacuuming floors. And it doesn’t look like anyone’s launched “House Husband Monthly” magazine so I can write articles about my efforts.

(If anyone is thinking of launching a magazine like this, let me know. I’ve got a killer idea about making washing day easier by buying all of your clothes in the same colour.)

Clearly I need to break the habit, or the only thing I’ll have to show for my days off is a clean sink. So tomorrow I think I’ll grab a notepad and pen and get out of the house for a while.

A friend of mine said she dreams of writing at The Rocks in Sydney, gazing across the water to the Sydney Opera House. Now that will be a bit of a hike from Brisbane (and I have to be back by four for my son’s appointment with a specialist), but sitting by the water’s edge somewhere while writing sounds like a pretty good way to spend the day.

Or I might fulfil one of my own dreams and write while sitting in a cafe somewhere, sipping on a cappuccino and hoping I don’t spill it everywhere when I turn the page.

Sure, I have a few jobs I’ll need to do before I go. We’ve got a pile of dirty clothes so high it could be used as a venue for the winter Olympics, so I’ll need to do at least one load. And we’ve hired a skip so we can throw away some stuff cluttering the house, so I’ll make a start on filling that. But they should only take me an hour, which leaves most of the day for me to enjoy the lap of the waves, the hiss of an espresso machine, and the chatter of passers-by.

And enjoy the life I hope to live every day, instead of just one day a fortnight.

One of the toughest things I’m finding with this transition into freelancing is keeping the momentum going.

At the moment I have one day off every fortnight, and on that day I’m living the freelancing dream—researching possible markets, looking up possible experts to interview, and so on. (This is what they mean by “the day is full of possibilities”). It’s still work, and yet I feel completely and utterly free because I’m living the life of a freelancer.

But the next day I’m back at my regular job and quickly swamped with emails, meetings and to-do lists. By the end of the day I’ve completely lost that feeling of freedom, and by the end of the week I can barely remember it. And it’s another full week before I get it back again.

I’m sure it will get better as I start making money and can take more days off each fortnight. But for now one day is all I can afford, and so it’s a struggle to keep the dream alive.

Sometimes it feels like I’ll never make it, that I’ll be spending the rest of my working life doing a series of mundane jobs I don’t enjoy. But every now and then I get “that freelancing feeling” back, and it suddenly feels not just possible, but inevitable.

Today was one of those days.

After publishing yesterday’s post I announced it on Twitter before heading for bed. I don’t advertise my posts very often (it feels like I’m inviting someone to my house while it’s still a pigsty), but I thought a few of my followers would enjoy it.

This morning I woke up to find not only comments on my blog (all agreeing with me), but people re-tweeting it on Twitter. I told people about it again (to cater for the folks living on this side of the world) and got even more comments (again, agreeing with me) and re-tweets.

I’ve often dreamed about someone reading an article of mine—on a train, on a bus, in a cafe—and slowly nodding to themselves in agreement. In the dream they may even show it to a friend of theirs and say, “You’ve got to read this. It’s excellent”.

Well, today I got to live that dream, and to remember why I’m making this journey in the first place.

To those who commented in the blog and on Twitter, thank you for helping to keep the dream alive.

About a week ago I wrote about how this blog was helping me find my writing voice, and that a few years ago I’d try to emulate whoever I was reading at the time (and fail miserably).

Well, my friend Russell has replied to that post, saying my voice has been pretty consistent for the past 20 years. And it looks like he’s got some evidence to back him up.

We’ve known each other since the late 80s, when we were both at Charles Sturt University in Wagga doing our IT degrees. At that stage I hadn’t written much, but I was on my way. (It was also when I discovered Writer’s Digest magazine, which changed my life. “There’s a magazine about writing? Awesome!”)

Whenever I wrote something—short story, humour column, whatever—I’d sent it to Russell. Even when he moved to Adelaide for his final year, I sent whatever I wrote (on 3.5” floppy discs, no less). And then once we both got access to Internet email, there was no stopping me. (Fortunately firewalls and anti-virus programs have improved a lot since then.)

So Russell has read pretty much everything I’ve written, including a 39,000-word diary I wrote in Year 12 for my “major” English assignment. (My teacher said it had to be “at least 1500 words”. I’m sure he still regrets not giving us a maximum word limit.)

But was he right about my voice being consistent all that time?

Well, today I got a chance to find out. While chatting to him over Skype after he posted, Russell said he no longer had the short story he talked about in the post. Well, today I did a search on my computer, and I found it. Along with pretty much everything I’ve written since high school.

Today was my day off to write, but I spent most of it going through those old text files. (How old? I write some of them on a Commodore 64 using a word processor written in BASIC.) And as I had my little trip down amnesia lane, I learned a few things.

I learned that over the years I’ve actually written some pretty decent stories. I may even try to update them a bit and submit them to a magazine or two. This is quite a revelation for me: I’d pretty much given up on writing fiction (although a friend has got me thinking about trying again) because I figured I’d lost the ability to dream up a story, create characters, etc. It’s nice to know that if I do decide to write a short story (or even a novel) that it might not be quite as big a stretch as I first thought.

I learned that I was a complete idiot in high school, and it’s a miracle I never had my head flushed down the toilet.

I learned that for a while there I was really good at starting, but not so good at finishing. I have a lot of half-finished pieces in there, and I really should go back and finish them one day. (Of course now I know I’m an ENFP, and that this is one of our “qualities”.)

And finally I learned that while my voice may have varied in some of my stories, it was pretty consistent in my humour pieces. And that’s probably how it should be.

So I guess we’re both right, Russell. But thanks for the comment on my post, and for helping me rediscover my writing past.