Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Resilience to misfortune

Stress is a special thing, it comes in so many grades. I used to think I was quiet stressed in my old job where I had tough targets of things to do and I had to work with a prat, or more accurately for a prat whose only job seemed to be to hassle me. That used to feel pretty special but now I laugh at it, a-ha-ha-ha. It has nothing on me now.

Since my dad died I've done nothing but work, the day after I returned to London from the funeral I went a job interview and aced it. I've been pitching new ideas to newspapers and magazines, so that every day I'm rushed off my feet writing things or doing research on the hardest piece I've ever had to do. I am a very busy boy.

This would be fine if payment for all this hard work was forthcoming, but it's not all sorts of 'book advances' won't be appearing until months later which doesn't make it much of an advance if it appears after you have finished the book. I'm at least mildly tempted to tear up the legally binding contact that they have already broken to teach them a lession, but I'm not really in a powerful enough position to do that. Various other invoices are in that strange sort of limbo that is acceptable because you aren't a company and you are unlikely to sue because the promise of more work keeps you sweet.

Normally I think I could just about cope with this, I enjoy a challenge and like working hard but since my dad died I've just not as resilient to misfortune and I don't think I will be until I've had some time to really think about stuff but that can't happen because to survive I. Must. Work.

Or more accurately I must get paid. The only positive I can draw from this whole experience is if I survive it I will become a man of iron who is implacable and able to survive anything, or I will end up wondering around in my dressing gown all day eating mashed bananas after a nervous break down.

Either one would make a nice change.

1 comment:

DJ Kirkby said...

I hope you end up a survivor who wanders around his house, for the occasional day, in his dressing gown and pith helmet becuase he can! Save the mashed bananas for daiquiris...