Fledgling Freelancer's Flight

A Western area code appears. Paul. His pitch takes the informed approach.
"So, how'd you like Native Son?" he asks.
I tell him, yet subscription at my former neighborhood's Tony Award-winning theater remains impossible.
I introduced myself to Paul Harding at the 2006 Earshot Jazz volunteer party in the private lofts at this Seattle club and bar. Months prior, I saw him do his spoken word thing with musicians Joe McPhee and Mike Bisio at this Ballard bar.
On the phone, at first, he doesn't recall that we've met. After a moment's chat about writing, jazz, the East Coast, I relate the uncanny call as reality check.
"Okay. I'm gonna make some money now," he says. We hang up.
So far, making due with freelance work in Boston isn't going well. Plan B comprises creditors—an apt term for the card that put me through this professional certification program, not so, the support from loved ones—or an inquiry at the nearby florist shop or cafe-cum-pizza parlor.
Given more time, we hope my portfolio attracts local appeal, and assignments come in as for this local freelancer. Congratulations, Susan, on making the switch to freelancing full-time.