Actually, that middle one isn’t precisely
true – there is a very good looking job at the National Theatre at the moment,
for a fringe style director, for a post of six months. It actually really does
look like something that I might be capable of, but at least one of the
requirements is to have directed a ‘professional’ production. Now, the terms of
that are actually looser than you might think – it seemingly just means a
production in which people got paid (or, at the very least, were hired with the
promise of pay), and that that production lasted at least a week. Strike two
for me, right there. There are plenty of people I know who, should they apply,
would be much more likely to get the job than I would – even in the unlikely event
that I’d actually be better than them – simply because my day-to-day work is a ‘normal’
fulltime job in the ‘real’ world, and that all my creative energies get crushed
into the evenings and weekends, entirely unpaid. (sorry, I whine about this a
lot).
I am, therefore, mindful of spare
time running out. A summer holiday isn’t nearly as much time as you might think
to pull things together. Particularly as, in theory, you’d need time and money before the holiday kicked in, so that
you could prepare for it. Perhaps I’m just horrifically without ambition and organisational
skills. So many people began their writing career while having to commit to a
full time job and young family. I guess that’s a major factor, right there –
that it’s a writing career, rather than a directing or acting career, which by
their very natures, have to operate within certain time frames. At least with
writing, you can pretty much whenever and wherever the hell you want, even if
it’s just five minutes on your lunchbreak. I mean, OK, I have a problem with
that in itself – it’s very difficult to get into the head space required when
you’ve got only five minutes to spare – for instance, it’s taken me about a
hour to get focussed enough to start writing this, and this is just a
meaningless, unplanned blog. It becomes a lot more difficult when you’re
attempting to create a tight, focussed story.
Of course I’m moaning. Of course
there have been plenty of other writers out there who shut up, and get the damn
thing done. I’m not one of those writers just yet. Which – incidentally – is why,
despite the fact that I have actually finished a couple of plays, short
stories, and a (hack job of a) novel, I still hesitate to call myself a Writer.
Well, in polite company, anyway. The word ‘writer’ is there on my website and
twitter feed, and if a local college comes up with another ‘writer in residence’
job, then you can be damn sure that’s what I’ll be calling myself.
And I’m aware, of course, that I’m
doing what every amateur writer (read: not actually a writer) does – whine,
complain, and moan about how hard writing actually is. Rather than getting on
and actually writing, which, when you get down to it, isn’t actually that hard.
Certainly not as hard as an actual job. And, of course, that’s the point –
there’s absolutely no way that I will be able to make writing my day job until
I get more of these finished, and get more people to see and read them.
It’s possible.
One day.
Soon.
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