Doxy's Real (Somewhat Scary) Life

I've been a bit scarce this week because I had to reapply for my job yesterday. This involved writing pages and pages outlining all my professional accomplishments and offering passionate explanations about why I am the best---nay, the only---person for this job.

My proposal will go to an independent review team---the members of which do not know me or give a rat's patootie about the fact that I'm a single mother with two kids, a car loan, and a new puppy. I have no idea how many others will apply---it's a Federal contract, which means it has to be put up for bid every year.

My bosses seem to love me, but the review team doesn't work for them. All they do is take the proposals they receive, rate them according to a rubric they have been given, and try to decide who can do a reasonable job the cheapest. I can't blame them for this, although "low bid" is rarely synonymous with "good value" in my experience...

My ex is still unemployed. Although it appears that he has decided to try the consulting route (we aren't talking much these days...), as far as I know, I am the only person in the family with a "real" job at the moment.

My contracts are up at the end of August. As you can imagine, this is nerve-wracking.

I am bold enough to ask for your prayers on this one. I adore my job, love my bosses and coworkers, and feel privileged to get up and go to work every day.

But, in the words of Maggie from Chorus Line:

I really need this job
Please, God, I need this job!
I've got to get this job!

This is the life of the self-employed writer. Feast or famine. I've been doing this for nearly 12 years now, so I know the drill.

It's just the first time it's mattered so damned much.