Sherri Cornelius

I’ve been rockin’ it at the library. They say I’m a “quick study.” And indeed, much of how they operate hits me right in the instincts. It seems almost too easy. The time I spend there doesn’t feel like work.This is great for the prospects of my being able to handle a second job.

Or maybe when I finally get Black Veil Angel out in the world, I’ll sell a million copies at five bucks a pop and then I’ll just be working at the library for fun.

Haha, I’m so funny.

But even figuring I won’t sell a million copies (or even a hundred) I’m still on track to publish BVA by, oh, say, March-ish. I was thinking about entering the Amazon Breakthrough Whatever, but I realize that this book is not for that contest. And so I’ll continue with my little self-publishing venture.

My main goal here is to finalize BVA in my mind. When I put Mon Petit Ami out there, it was after years of going back to it, over and over, trying to fix it. It rarely left my thoughts. I put it “under the bed” permanently four or five times, only to find it as an itch in my brain some time later. Probably every person reading this has scratched that itch once or twice.

Then when I needed a piece to experiment with on Smashwords, it seemed like the logical choice. Imperfect, yes, but fairly solid and fun. I straightened its hair bow and pushed it onstage, and you know what? The itch left me. I published it over a year ago and not once have I had the urge to edit. NOT ONCE. I rarely even think about it anymore. I’m free! I’m hopeful this will be the case with BVA as well.

And if a few people get a little enjoyment out of it, all the better.

It feels good to be writing again, even if it’s the clinical, critical kind of writing that is editing. This isn’t rewriting. I’ve rewritten enough. This is taking out stuff I’m not sure of and filling in the gaps..with, by the way, fresh and untainted writing. A good piece to stretch my legs on after all this time, and when I’m finished I might even start a new book.

No pressure.

I have left the worst (to me) job in the world behind. I know some people work there if not happily then somewhat contentedly, but for me it was pain wrapped in gloom stuffed with cabbage. I left on Friday, to start at the library on Monday.

I took with me some small cuttings of fabric and balls of thread from the trash, along with a button which had been stuck in a crack in the concrete floor beside my machine since about my second day. My intention was to burn these things as a symbol of my freedom. I expected the transition weekend to be spent ridding myself of the sewing factory and welcoming the library into my brain space.

I was surprised to find myself putting off this symbolic burning of denim I’d been looking forward to all week. I didn’t need it after all. The factory was just gone, as soon as I walked out the door. Now and then through the weekend I would remember I never had to go back there, whereupon I would be flooded with relief and I might hoot and/or holler for just a sec, but by Sunday I was pretty much done with the hoots and hollers.

I was also surprised to find that I wasn’t frozen with giddy anticipation for my first day at the library. I sort of thought I might be too nervous to sleep Sunday night. But no, I had a feeling of peace and went to sleep with no trouble. Woke up ready to go, calm. I got a little antsy as the time grew nearer to leave, but it was no worse than any other appointment-nerves. Just trying to calculate the time I need to leave, make sure I have everything, etc. Starting my first day at the library didn’t seem especially significant or electrifying—just right. About time.

Being a shelver means I’m walking a lot. Constant movement, as with sewing, except I’m using my lower body more than my upper body. Once again I have to go through a period of adjustment, but hopefully this time I end up stronger rather than broken. This changing schedule is going to be strange for a while. I’ll be working evening shift sometimes, something I haven’t done since Wal-Mart in college. This means that I’m constantly thinking about what time I’m supposed to go to work, what time it is currently, and checking the schedule to make sure I haven’t gotten the time wrong.

Today I don’t have to go in till four. It’s so strange to be home all alone! Only four months ago this was what I did every day, but it feels like a lifetime.

Thanks for sticking with me through the ups and downs. It’s been a long time since I felt really good about something.

I started calling the sewing factory “the place where dreams go to die.” My brother pointed out that in “Dinner for Schmucks” they say cabbage is the smell of dead dreams. Two days later, early morning, I smelled cabbage. No way, I said to myself and laughed. At lunch I smelled it again, and a feeling of rightness seeped into my being. Cabbage, dead dreams, fits this place to a tee. Apparently, one of the girls can’t get enough cabbage and heats it up in the microwave, sending the smell wafting over to my machine. I told her about the dead dreams line, and she laughed. We shared a moment. One of the few bright spots I’ve experienced there.

I guess I had forgotten just how much it sucks out in the job world. I was expecting reason and welcome and cooperation. I had forgotten how everybody gets up in your business while you’re just doing the best work you can, how there’s always someone judging you and strangely willing to tell you how you fall short.

BUT…

I had a job interview at the library. My interview was less nerve-wracking since the interviewer was my volunteer liaison at the library. I don’t know why, but she likes me a lot and is willing to go out of her way to help me. It’s good to have someone on your side.

The next step is waiting for my background check to complete. My advocate called me on Wednesday to make a provisional offer of employment, contingent on the OSBI report coming back clean--which, uh, yeah. No problems there. I had to suppress my joyous noises because I was in the snake den, i.e. the break area of the sewing factory, so I hope she understood how pumped I was. I think she did.

So the only thing I’m worried about is the part-time nature of the job. I’ll be making about as much per hour, but varying hours. It’ll be a challenge to fill in with a supplemental job if I need (or want) more money. That’s a worry that changes nothing in the way of the action I will take, which is to quit the soul-and-hand-crushing sewing job and cannonball right smack in the middle of a part-time question mark.

If everything works out I’ll be a shelver in less than a week’s time. Whenever I remember this tidbit my eyes well up and my body tingles. I belong there. You know how people say “you just know”? I knew from the beginning I didn’t belong at the sewing factory, and despite my natural optimism and every attempt to fake it till I make it, I haven’t had a single moment when I thought I might belong there. It literally smells like cabbage. However, I knew from the first time I set foot in this particular library that it was my place. When I go there I smile. I relax. So what’s the smell of vibrant, living dreams?

I’ve written three posts over the past few weeks and discarded all of them. Too mopey. My mood is on the upswing, though, so let’s see if I can keep the complaining to a minimum.

I’m getting settled as much as I can be in my new job. It’s funny how little the kids’ lives have changed as opposed to how much things have changed for me. The only difference for them is that I leave a few minutes before they get on the bus, and dinner is slightly less healthy. Both their father and I are home before they return, and our evenings go about how they did before, at least from their vantage point. I miss having time to myself and I’m tired, but having money again is fantastic. Between the two new incomes we’re making more than the hubs was making by himself at his old job. We’re caught up on bills and can start working on paying down the credit cards.

If my hands hold up, that is. I mentioned before how hard sewing blue jeans is on the hands. After a month and a half the rest of my body is adjusted, but the fingers and wrists are just going downhill. That’s blue-collar working for ya. You’re just gonna ache, and that’s all there is to it. But seriously, if it doesn’t get better real soon I’m going to start looking for something else

The only thing is, I’m still waiting on the library. Yeah, that’s still in the works! They’re going to need someone “soon”. She doesn’t know when but she will call me because I’m her pick for the job. Part time, probably weekends. It feels like I’ve been waiting forever, but I only started volunteering there at the end of July. Holy crap, it feels like a year but it’s only been three months. I can’t believe so much has changed in that short period.

So my plan is to go to part time at the overalls factory when I get the library gig. I don’t want to find another full-time job only to have to leave when/if the library thing comes through in three months. HOWEVER, all my plans seem to turn to shit, so we’ll see what really happens.

Well that’s enough for now, just wanted to put something up here before someone thinks I died.

Rain is going to barely miss us, and for once I am grateful. My girl’s marching band will play at their first home game tonight, and I don’t want anything to mess it up. The boy is at a sleepover. Oh, and also…I am employed, as of this afternoon.

Nine years it’s been since I worked for someone else, except for a little editing and some volunteer work. I feel vulnerable, resigned, relieved, excited, dreadful (dreadful?). The job is at a factory that makes overalls. Here’s a video of the type of machine I’ll be running.

 

I did this job for several years at another factory before it closed. I swore I’d never sew in a factory again. Early on I even turned down a good job because I wanted to make a new path for myself. Somehow, I lost my way, and went in a big ol’ circle. It kind of sucks.

The job is dirty, and my hands will ache all the time, but working again is going to rock. After I stopped being depressed about the two-steps-back thing, I realized it will be much easier to rejoin the workforce in a job I’m comfortable doing, rather than adding to my stress by doing something completely new. This isn’t the beginning I’d hoped for, but it’ll do. For now.

I often post about my half-hearted job search—like how I need money, or how hard it is to find a job after being a stay-at-home mom for eight years, or how I don’t know if I can work in a public place with all the smells, or not knowing what field to go into with my non-specific set of skills. I’ve known I needed to get a job for money, yes, but also for my sanity. Volunteering at the library was supposed to help me segue into a paying job, but not for another month or so.

At least, that was the plan. But God laughs while we make plans. The hubs lost his job last week.

Obviously, my need to make some dough is suddenly all-important. Not something I can put off till I’m comfortable, which is to say, unafraid. It probably never would have happened that way anyway.

So. Money-making propositions.

Selling soap would be good, if I had listened to my instincts earlier in the year, when those batches would be nicely cured by now and ready to package. But no. The soap I made the other day will be ready in a month, and even then it’s not a sure sale. Plus, I can’t really wait a month to see some income.

Freelance editing is still an option, except many previous attempts to break the ice on that failed, leading me to believe it might not be the job for me after all. Plus, it also would take too long to see a significant amount of money.

My library isn’t hiring right now, unfortunately. I’ve decided to visit libraries in neighboring towns to see if any of them are fragrance-free. I did this last year but stopped after three. At each one, the smell was strong enough to knock me over as soon as I opened the door. I will extend my search, I guess, although any commute over a half hour will be impractical.

A factory job might be ideal, if they don’t produce something toxic. Last year, when I was looking for a job in earnest, they were sparse. All in the medical or sales fields, two fields I will only attempt if I’m desperate and hungry. I had plenty to eat last fall, so after a few unsuccessful interviews, I put off the job search. This year I’m seeing more variety, so a traditional job is a better possibility.

I feel strongly that a way is opening for me, and that it will be clear soon which way that is. It will probably be something I’ve never considered. The Wheel turns. Meanwhile, the hubs is hitting the pavement and I’m editing a book to put on Amazon, maybe two, and getting my resume in order. Whatever happens, things will never be the same.

Scary, but good.

Whew. The resume is finito. Finally! Well, I still have to write a skills page, because I’ve gained a lot of undocumented experience from my prolonged attempt to be a writer. Or wait. Maybe I should make that an entry in my employment history…? What do you think?

It’s amazing, the things you learn when you look at your history in the space of a couple pages. For instance, with the exception of one, all my jobs have been two years or less. The exception was five years, and I probably would have stayed there unhappily forever, if a Venezuelan hadn’t apparently needed the job more than I did.

There’s only one job I needed a resume to get, and that one lasted 3-4 months. The work was wonderful, but my boss was crazy. Looking back I can see she was probably an alcoholic, but I didn’t know what to call it back then. I still have dreams about working for her, in which I walk on eggshells and feel stupid all the time.

The work I enjoyed the most, regardless of environment, involved some kind of organization. The crazy lady job was office manager of a photography studio, before digital photography had completely taken over. That was my favorite work, cropping photos, collaborating with customers on extras, keeping records out the wazoo. My sewing factory job, the five-year one, was acceptable. I detested the environment, but with piecework you’re always trying to figure out a more efficient way to do it and then implementing it. The repetition was soothing. My wrists are shot now because of it, but it satisfied the (literally) OCD part of my brain.

Another really cool job was merchandising at a retail store, which I did on top of other, not-so-fun duties. Using my creativity to come up with displays and ads, using my hands to put those together, collaborating with different areas to make a cohesive plan that benefitted everyone—that was fun. If it weren’t for the extreme smells of the retail environment, that’s the one I’d go for. That or office manager. If I had a good boss, that might work.

I have trouble picking a direction. Too many variables. I’m still confident the right job is out there, but soon I might have to settle for the right-now job.

Hey look, I’m posting! This was my longest hiatus yet, almost three months. I don’t know if I’ll begin regular postings again, but I have some things to work out that might benefit from the attention of the world outside my house.

Namely, getting a job.

I’ve been planning to work for about two years now, but it’s never seemed like the right time. The threat of your kids going hungry combined with marital instability has a way of making any time the right time. It’s time to be reborn into a person of the world again. Long overdue, in a way, but I wasn’t ready. I am now.

I’ve made large strides on my resume, but it sucks. My biggest problem is narrowing down the field. My experience thus far has been too varied to focus my efforts in a single direction. Previous jobs have been in retail and manufacturing. Retail is categorically out, and the manufacturing jobs around here don’t pay much.

So this leaves me floating in space, trying to figure out where I fit in. What field would least aggravate my fragrance sensitivity, pay enough to live on comfortably (probably less than you’d think), and incorporate my skills and preferences.

I’d like to focus on writing, but there are a few problems with that. I tried writing novels and I still want to, but obviously I won’t be getting money from it for a long while. I tried freelance writing and found that the topics I know something about aren’t really in demand for paying jobs. Plus I don’t really like freelancing. That constant chasing down of work is too much mental strain. Technical writing sounds extremely satisfying, collaborating with others to produce a useful document. Most of those jobs require either a buttload of experience or a degree of some kind, of which I have neither.

I put my first application in yesterday for a manufacturing-type position. The pay is low, but the hours and location are perfect. There’s no way I could live on that income alone if it came to that, but it might be a good way to get my feet wet while supplementing our current income.

I’ve been disappointed to find that the more interesting jobs so far are all an hour’s commute from here. I have faith the perfect job will show up at the perfect time. Hopefully that perfect time is NOW.

Today's Friday, right? During the summer the days just melt together. I feel guilty for being so happy school's starting soon, and I can be alone for a portion of the day. I also feel guilty that I won't be getting a job, but I always feel guilty for not having a job, so that's nothing new. And before you cry, "Writing is a job!" just remember that I am not getting paid for it, and also it's a lot of fun and therefore suspect. The real reason I don't have a conventional job while the kids are in school is the fragrance thing. Periodic exposure I can handle. Daily exposure would surely put me back in migraine territory, and nobody in the house wants that. I do have a few very large home repairs I can't afford to hire out, so maybe I'll call myself a carpenter and that'll be my job.

I will probably start looking for some sort of job to do from home, but I don't know if I'm enough of a self-starter to follow that through. One interesting development to report is that I'll be the senior editor of a little startup e-pub called Cove. The details haven't been hammered out yet, but I'll let you know what happens. It will at the very least be a huge learning experience, and at the most a financially successful venture. Can't lose.

My brother is also starting school this month. It's a huge change for him, as it would be for anyone going back to college after 20 or so years (25?) And I'm super-proud of him for even attempting it. I've never had the guts. And like my venture, this is also a can't-lose. I also win, because he'll be living right down the street from me.

Hope you all have a great weekend.

There's some cool stuff going on in Sherri's world today. Thought I'd give a little linky love today so you can join in.

• Writtenwyrdd is having a contest on her blog to celebrate three years and a thousand posts. A thousand! Wha? You heard me. Here's her description of the prize: "I've got a bunch of hand-screened cards (black on cream) that I made years ago as part of my arts and crafts phase. The winner will get a couple dozen, each individually wrapped (a $50 value).  They can be framed as well.  I carved the originals in lino blocks and turned the prints into card designs.  Various Celtic designs, fantasy designs and pagan designs." She's taking entries through next Friday, so go leave a comment to enter.


• Ian coined a term to describe when, as a writer, you get in your own way: Eating your earlobes. You'll have to go to his blog to get the whole story.


• A friend of mine had a great job interview today. I'm not naming names because we're being cautiously optimistic, but I wanted him to know I'm behind him!


• The thing I'm most excited about is coming from my buddy Marta. For as long as I've known her I've loved her art and wished I could afford to commission some to hang on every wall of my house. Now I'm going to have a little piece I can hold in my hands. A little while ago she had a contest on her blog, and I won an original copy of one of her books, bound by Marta herself, with original art included! She let me choose the book and everything, and now she's posted pictures of the art-making process here. It's fascinating and beautiful and exciting. Won't you go on over and see my prize and be jealous? She's really giving me a gift, and I'm not just talking about the prize. It's been a pleasure to know her.

Have a great weekend, y'all! I plan to.