Sometimes Scary Moves Pay Off

This year, I did the thing I was most afraid of....I (wait for it) quit my full-time, fully salaried job (with my own office, own bathroom...and did I mention the salary?) to move into freelance writing full time.

It has truly been the scariest thing I've ever done..scarier than jumping out of a plane (at least if that ended badly, it would be quick), scarier than my first kiss, scarier, even than the time the giant roach divebombed my face as I cowered, naked and wet from the shower, in the corner of the bathroom.

So far...and I say this with plenty of knocks on wood and handfuls of salt thrown over the shoulder, it's been good. Honestly, I absolutely love it. I find that I don't mind working til all hours or waking up exhausted. Because I really do love the fact that I get to write all day--and most of the time, get paid for it! It's a huge, huge thrill.

The gig that I love the most is that I was just named the restaurant reviewer for our local paper, the Augusta  Chronicle. My column is called Dine & Dish (a name I came up with all on my own!).

I promised myself that I would treat myself to a day at the salon with my first paycheck; while I was there, I chatted with my hairdresser, who competes on a dirt bike in his spare time. His whole face just was alive as he talked about taking the hills and turns at speeds up to 90 miles per hour. You could just tell that he absolutely loved it.

I think I know the feeling.

Breaking News

We were driving back down Calhoun Expressway after enjoying a meal by Chef Philippe Chin at Pastel when "Oh, my God!"

"What?!!" asked Sean, slamming on the brakes.

"Look!" I pointed over the treetops to our right, where a mound of flames, brilliantly orange against the purply black sky, sent up a billowing column of smoke. The flames licked well above the tops of the trees.

"Where is it?" asked Sean as he started roaring down Calhoun. "Let's find it...I may need to get a camera." We crossed 13th Street and started heading down Greene. I rolled down my window and raindrops hit my face as I kept looking down to my right. 12th, 11th, 10th, 9th...we kept getting closer. "I'm getting a camera."

We whipped to our left toward the Augusta Chronicle building, just as a firetruck, lights blazing, sirened past us. We drove down to the rear photo entrance. As Sean went upstairs, I waited in the car, then another car drove up. It was Annette, fresh from shooting Cirque de la Symphonie. As Sean came back down the stairs, he and Annette decided to swap places--she'd head out to the fire while he edited her images and alerted the newsroom.

Inside the crowded, creative space of Photo, Sean answered the "bleee-eeep" of his phone and confirmed to the night editor that Annette would be covering the fire. Annette called back to report that she'd found it...most of the historic Southern Milling Co. was engulfed in flames. Sean said, "Get what you can." 

I paced while Sean flipped through Annette's photos of acrobats twisting and bending and tossing rings to the music of the Augusta Symphony, part of this year's Westobou Festival. Chris called next; he'd heard about the fire and would head over too. Just as Sean finished making his photo edits, the door slammed. "Annette!"

She was back, one of the first journalists on the ground before the police and firemen pushed everyone back. Her images of the water arcing from the fully extended firetruck's ladder, lit by the glow of the thirsting flames, with a hose curling on the street in the foreground, emphasized the magnitude of the fire. According to Annette, the brick section of the mill was fine, but the entire rest of it--a wooden structure still containing combustible chemicals and other fire food--had gone up. 

We left to do a little looking of our own. The street was entirely blocked by fire engines and police cars...the lights could be seen from blocks away. The fire was still glowing, although tempered by the continuous spray of water. 

We came home then, still full and tired but with adrenaline pumping. "That was fun," I said, smiling at my husband. All in a day's work. 

P.S. Here's the link to the story and photo.