double life
"Eights!"
Silence.
"Weights!"
Silence.
Like an unwanted piece of grit in a mouthful of institution food, the Tube spits me out at Embankment.
I emerge from my journey mole-like, dazed by the unfamiliar sounds, confused by all the information I have had to absorb in one afternoon, in shock and on the verge of tears.
"Weights!"
The deafening bark that resembles a word crashes into my consciousness for the third time, momentarily halting my train of thoughts. It is a steady bark, punctuated by a few seconds silence but there is no dog to be seen.
As my brain and ears struggle to process this anomaly, I spot a visual clue to the right of the station entrance.
The newspaper seller.
"Lates!"
The metronome bark is the hoary voice of human dejection, the voice of nicotine, the plea for attention that everyone ignores.
I steady myself against the wall. I could howl with despair, joining the newspaper seller into an impromptu duet, The Canine Carnival of Calamity it'd be called.
Oh.
Sniffles are no longer stifled and my face becomes one soggy mess. Panic pounces on me, my heart palpitates without punctuation, breathing becomes a fight for air.
I am rooted to the spot, everything is closing in on me, why fight anymore, let it go, let it go...
Tales from other peripatetic colleagues come back to me, tales of buffet breakfast goods secreted into handbags to provide nourishment throughout the day, tales of a hand-to-mouth existence I thought was just another hype if only it didn't bear such a striking resemblance to my own.
A year of relentless hard work, sacrificed weekends and extended weeks collapses around my ears, engulfing all my hopes of a better life.
I have just sold my soul for £38 a day.
Freelance.
13 pies thrown:
Freelance meaning no work every day, is that correct? What on earth could you being doing for £38 a day? It isn't even minimum wage! Why even consider it? Ye gods woman, have you taken leave of your senses? Madness aside, I must remember to alight at Embankment soon, this chap sounds worth the detour.
What is this freelance work? And why is it paid so little? You're an amazing writer Ariel. You should freelance as a copywriter. I know there's a lot more competition in London than here, but it's worth a try. You're really talented!
I just woke up and I'm reading this with my good friends Coffee & Mug in hand in a vain hope to pierce the fog in my brain and try to understand this post of yours. Although it is wonderfully writen as usual, I have no clue what you are talking about but it does sound painful. I'll get back to this later with a clearer mind.
Nick, correct. And I hadn't even realised about minimum wage! There is a potential for earning extra, which varies and isn't guaranteed. The figure stuck in my head, hence the post. I do it out of passion, because it has the potential to be far more interesting and rewarding than the warehouse job, and my plan is/was to make it into a part-career - this is something I have been working at very hard for about a year. The newspaper seller is indeed something, or rather someone, else.
Day in bed, it is not editorial work, heavens, at least that would be regulated/protected in some way via the NUJ I suppose. It pays so little because what you make on top is up to you - it could be good or disastrous, each job is a big gamble. Thanks for the suggestion and the kind words - I did briefly try my hand at copywriting in Switzerland as part of another job, but I have no real experience of it.
Froggy, I quit coffee a long, long time ago as it gives my little heart the run around. The way I feel right now though, maybe I should have some to inject some life into me after what was mostly a sleepless night.
All, I know this is confused - a true reflection of my confusion. I thought there was a solution lined up, and now I am not sure. I will explain and post as I go along...
Ariel, darling, here's the solution:
If you haven't yet, it's time to start The Novel.
Can I have a teeny-weeny bit of that writing talent of yours? :-)
£38/day. Blimey, I really hope you make a damn sight more than that!
Whatever it is that you're embarking on, the very best of luck! Pease keep us posted...
P.S. Edvard could well be right there about the novel...
Are you going to be a lollypop Lady?
[nice words, by the way]
You poor dear.
You could always get a paper round to make ends meet, couldn't you?
Tell us more!!
Sally
From the people that brought you:
Paper laaaate...
Paper laaaate...
and
fi-NAL!
fi-NAL!
Edvard, good thinking but I need to eat, three times a day ideally, therefore I need work that pays!
Mr X, I should do but it's a big gamble. Huge gamble.
Andre, welcome! What an unusual idea! I could desperately do with new clothes, so I suppose a free fluorescent yellow uniform is not to be sniffed at. Oh, and thanks.
Timbo, I would if I could however I haven't actually got enough spare time.
Sally, hello and welcome! I can't reveal any more just yet as the whole thing is still very much of an unknown quantity.
OE, I see you have subbed yourself down to two essential letters! That's what I call tight copy.
Oh, you do make me want to leap over to wherever-you-are, feed you up and sort you out.
And re: the other post. It's true, you know. YOU COME FIRST. And please, eat some food. You can get food very cheap you know, if you go to the right places. Porridge is good, for a start.
And do investigate such things as copywriting - you may be more qualified than you think.
And sadly you may be right about the novel, at least as a way out of poverty. They are time consuming and even when well written (as yours most certainly would be) mostly don't pay very well and are not to be counted upon. And you don't get any money at all until long after you've finished writing it. Sorry to be pessimistic, but it's only the truth.
Clare, you are adorable! I am under no illusion that being a professional writer of books is no fast-track to a healthy bank balance, but I intend to find out more about copywriting and other forms of wordsmithery when I get the chance.
Meanwhile, I am on the road, taking risks and living again at last...
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