Time Flies
I got offered a job today. Writing shit. A full time, writing shit job. I'm not going to take it. I find that confusing in a way, if it's actually possible to confuse yourself, but I'm also quite sure about it.
On this very day last year I was here...
...camping just feet from the sea, spending my days with sand between my toes, the sun on my face and a sense of freedom that I'm scared I'll one day forget forever. If you had told me then that in a year's time I would have a full time job writing shit, I would probably have taken that. Sure, there's other things I'd prefer to get paid for, spending my days with sand between my toes and the sun on my face being not too far down the list, but that would do.
I know some things now that I didn't know then. I know that, as cheesy as it sounds, trying to follow your dreams is hard work. I know that my mind needs space. I know that believing in yourself is both the most important and the hardest thing to do and I know that giving up after just 6 months of trying isn't an option.
Because I know these things I also know that one person paying me to write their shit is a million miles from another person paying me to write my shit. Which is why I'm not taking it. Yet.
On this very day last year I was here...
...camping just feet from the sea, spending my days with sand between my toes, the sun on my face and a sense of freedom that I'm scared I'll one day forget forever. If you had told me then that in a year's time I would have a full time job writing shit, I would probably have taken that. Sure, there's other things I'd prefer to get paid for, spending my days with sand between my toes and the sun on my face being not too far down the list, but that would do.
I know some things now that I didn't know then. I know that, as cheesy as it sounds, trying to follow your dreams is hard work. I know that my mind needs space. I know that believing in yourself is both the most important and the hardest thing to do and I know that giving up after just 6 months of trying isn't an option.
Because I know these things I also know that one person paying me to write their shit is a million miles from another person paying me to write my shit. Which is why I'm not taking it. Yet.
posted by Percy Herbert at
11:50 AM
5 Comments:
Couldn't you find some way of letting them think they were paying you to write their shit while actually writing your own?
Warmth, freedom and sand between the toes.... Mmmmm......
My plan is to work stupid hours for a while, and earn enough to buy myslf a little slice of paradise like what you've got in that there picture. Lets hope I don't get to old, grumpy or deceased on the journey to enjoy the destination..... :o)
Consider what you'll be writing in a years time about today. Then go and do something worth writing about in a years time.
a sense of freedom that I'm scared I'll one day forget forever
Trust me, you won't.
As for writing shit - you have to look at it objectively. Well, you don't... you can look at it an up-your-own-arse "I'm rich and don't need the money" kind of a way - but few of us are that well off.
When I started writing for the paper, some cunt (called himself a friend but you know how cunts can be) told me I was selling my soul. Since I'd just resigned from a 300-strong, Western sweatshop (AKA 'call centre'), he couldn't have known I was actually buying my soul back.
It's all relative, P. Writing, in whatever style or for whatever reason, is writing and it's experience of house style, deadlines and encourages general improvement.
Unless your writing job was sticking Young Conservative tags all over the uni walls, I'd suggest you might have been wrong to pass up the opportunity.
You've got the rest of your youth/life to be precious. No real point in starting so early.
"Trust me, you won't."
For some reason I knew it would be you who picked up that little gem ;o)
I hear you, believe me, but I don't think I am being precious at all. What I failed to mention is that I am currently earning, for 16 hours 'graft' a week, only a little less than they're offering for 30. It's economics, basically, with a little bit of principle thrown in.
I'm certainly not rich - I drink fucking cider for fucks sake! - and definitely not up my own arse but I'm smart enough to know where the dollars come from and where the juices should go, so to speak.
Now I know, I completely understand. That offer was only the start. You're young and still possess stamina - it'll work out for you, I'm sure.
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