Stories from a life in progress.


Since Wednesday morning I've been working on a pilot project for the new company.  Something they haven't done before, something I haven't done before.  Something which is related to their work, but far outside of my previous experience.

Several writers received the invitation to try it out.  I have no idea why I got to be one of them, because I had only corresponded with people at the company for a couple of days.  No idea why they thought I might be a good fit.

I told them I have no idea how to do this project.  I'll have to learn it all from scratch, I said.  I'm willing to give it a try, but I might just make utter hash of it all.  They added me in anyway.

I'm beginning to fear I was right.  My work is not going to be any good.  So far I've put a ton of effort into learning, but none of it has turned into production.  Right this minute, I have no idea how to start writing a real report, the one due the middle of this coming week.  I simply don't even know.

I'm so tired and demoralized, I can't think straight.  I have been afraid from the start, the first day when I had trouble understanding the initial documents and information, that I wouldn't figure it out in time.  I'm still afraid, and more afraid every day that I'm going to fail.  I will have no deliverable, or only a shabby, incomplete thing that I would be ashamed to submit for actual payment.

One of the earliest things I produce for my new employers is very likely going to be a failed attempt.  What happens then?  I don't know.

I don't even know.