a working woman

So it seems I have a gig next week. In Irvine, of all places, about an hour south of here. Known primarily for its proximity to a small airport and a lot of shopping malls and industrial parks. I’ll be shooting approximately six hundred pictures of printer innards over the course of four or maybe five days. Yeah, not that interesting, this work. But, y’ know. A job. Which I haven’t had in… well, let’s just say a while. A long while.

So it seems I’m a photographer. Pro, even. I’ve sold a stock photo to an ad agency, sold another to a friend (does that count?). I’m talking with a photographer friend about shooting weddings starting in the fall. She’s got tons of experience at it. I have some myself, come to that. Chris, for one, always showed people my photos of her wedding, often in lieu of the official photographer’s. (Am I remembering that right, Chris?) And now a tech shoot for a major electronics manufacturer. A job. They’ll put me up in a hotel for the week, complete with high speed internet, and pay for my lunches. I was nervous about the gig in theory but after talking to the guy who hired me (the father of one of Damian’s friends) it feels more concrete and very doable. Exciting, even. Not for the work itself as much as the fact of it. Working again. Bringing in a pay check. It’s about fucking time.

Will this go anywhere from here, sprout other gigs? Will the wedding team-up become reality? Will I become a regular freelancer? Who knows? But I find I like the idea, very much. Writer and photographer both. Why not? Both use eyes and hands and mind. Both allow me independence and freedom. Both fit both my life and my self.