And there you have it ladies and gentlemen; Christmas has been and gone for another year. Blink and you miss it I find, but I also took it as an opportunity to take a bit of time off from the manic writing and job hunting.
Without going into detail, Christmas this year involved everything you expect a traditional British Christmas to include: from excessive eating and drinking, fun times with friends and family, relaxing time with friends and family, dramas, arguments, tears, crap telly and indigestion. All in all it was spot on where everyone seemed to enjoy the gifts I'd picked out (especially the parents - tickets to see England/Wales at the Six Nations, they better be!) so I had a nice, glowing feeling that my early Christmas shopping paid off. Winner.
Back to the Big Smoke yesterday though and I've thrown myself back into the rat race and searching out jobs or more freelance opportunities. Cast your minds back to before Crimbo and I excitedly blogged about a freelance job I may have bagged for an Urban Gardening site. Well, there's to be a meeting set up in the new year for that and then hopefully it will be all systems go!
Over the holidays I also took advantage of a free CV review service through a job site I'm signed up to. I had a very nice man called Jim ring me up and he basically pointed out that my CV wasn't very good. To be honest I think I'd kind of guessed that due to the lack of interviews I'd been getting, but hearing it out loud has given me a bit of a kick up the arse and today I've spent around four hours rewriting the bastard thing to improve it.
Although I'm a writer (or I like to think I am), penning a CV is the most difficult fucking thing ever. It's one of those too many cooks in the kitchen type of things and there's no right or wrong way of doing it. At least with a feature on foot woes, or sexy games to play with condoms (both of which I've written in the past) you know where you stand. Sadly with CVs it often leads to poor individuals - like myself - going round in circles umming and arhing as to whether things should be put in boxes or not, or whether to detail every little skill you learnt from your last job or not.
Jim said not. To both of those things. And he should know because he's a professional that will try to charge you £200 to rewrite your CV. Daft really, because how can they think people who need to rewrite their CV will be successfully working in a high enough paid job to be able to spare that kind of money on rewriting something?
Anyway, I got told I needed to advertise myself more. Apparently a recruiter will look at your CV for an average of 10 seconds, so you have all of three sentences to hook them in. Pressure many! Simply saying I had 'refreshing and original ideas' wasn't enough in this day and age. Too cliched. The key is to put all your practical skills, training and qualifications in these first three Personal Profile sentences. This site was massively helpful too and if you're trying to piece together your CV for the new year, whether you're a writer or not, there are lots of useful tips about how to cut to the chase and prostitute yourself to within an inch of your life to get that interview.
That, and I think statistics are a good idea. Stats are good because they show evidence of what you've done, changed or achieved. Even if it's saying, 'I managed to double the traffic to the website,' or whatever, it sounds impressive because you've proved how positively your work can pay off. I ripped that one off my boyfriend...
Unfortunately a CV is one of those documents you'll never quite get finished or stop picking away at. If you're out there trying to tweak yours then I feel your pain and only hope this may have helped you out a little bit. I think I've read so many advice sites or opinions on the right or wrong way to write a CV that my head is now swimming. Guess the only proof to see how well the changes have helped will be in the pudding...which is of course a metaphor for interviews in this case!
RoseC -x-
Wednesday, 28 December 2011
Tuesday, 20 December 2011
Setting the lance free!
Right, I may be jumping the gun a bit here as there are still many details to be sorted in regards to what I'm about to tell you, but I'm sure as you can deduce from this mega long first sentence, I'm a little bit excited!
It's been nearly a month since I made the decision to quit the school job and go out as a freelance writer and today I've finally got my first bite! After traipsing around Westfield shopping centre picking up last minute Christmas pressies, I returned home, opened up my email and found a message from an editor of an online magazine asking if I'd take on some news writing for the next couple of months for the site.
HELL YES!
The payment is quite small though.
I DON'T CARE!
I'm grinning from ear to ear that I'll have something else to add to my portfolio, and it's writing on a subject completely different to anything I've done before so I'm very excited as it'll really stretch me and be a challenge.
More than anything it's given me a real confidence boost; maybe I really can go out and do this freelance thing and make it work? Quitting the school was a risky decision - especially financially - but I've so made the right decision that mans I can start to make decisions to move my career in the direction I want.
Happy times. Drinks all round...
RoseC :-D
It's been nearly a month since I made the decision to quit the school job and go out as a freelance writer and today I've finally got my first bite! After traipsing around Westfield shopping centre picking up last minute Christmas pressies, I returned home, opened up my email and found a message from an editor of an online magazine asking if I'd take on some news writing for the next couple of months for the site.
HELL YES!
The payment is quite small though.
I DON'T CARE!
I'm grinning from ear to ear that I'll have something else to add to my portfolio, and it's writing on a subject completely different to anything I've done before so I'm very excited as it'll really stretch me and be a challenge.
More than anything it's given me a real confidence boost; maybe I really can go out and do this freelance thing and make it work? Quitting the school was a risky decision - especially financially - but I've so made the right decision that mans I can start to make decisions to move my career in the direction I want.
Happy times. Drinks all round...
RoseC :-D
Monday, 19 December 2011
A helpful banker
There are few things in life that are more grown up than making a consultation appointment with your bank. By doing this it means that you want to consciously discuss inflation, overdrafts, credit rating putting you in the black or red, insurance, bonds and monthly direct debits. If, like me, you've never been particularly good at handling money or understanding the financial world, this step into adulthood whereby you're going to have a suited fella talk at you about APR rates and so on is somewhat daunting. The last time I did it was before I went to university and I took my Dad with me to act as jargon buster.
That was six years ago, when I set up my student account and I didn't need Dad to translate 'a free young persons rail card for five years' to know I was getting a good deal. Now though, I've been graduated for two years and thought that maybe it was time to get a more grown up account, with fewer exciting benefits like free travel and exchange them for sensible grown up advantages like content insurance and preferential travel exchange rates. I also thought I was obliged to give up the 'student' on my account. Perhaps this is just another symptom of the quarter life crisis of wanting to radically change something so it looks like I'm being authoritative and sorting my life out.
It didn't really work though.
I knew it wouldn't when I walked into the room and the adviser looked no older than 19. As if discussing money wasn't intimidating enough, I was now to feel humiliated by being spoken to by a young woman that has a better grasp on finances than me. Fine, so be it. I put on my best, 'I know how to handle money face' in the hope I could convince her I knew what I'd be doing with my money over the last five years. I went in with it clear in my mind, strictly no credit cards and no overdraft. The idea of having a credit card or overdraft frightens me because if I have money then I spend it for the sake of spending it. I'm pretty pants at saving, so spending money I don't have, then finding the money I don't have to pay back the already borrowed money, means I'm set for failure!
It started off friendly enough with plenty of questions about yours truly so she could build up a profile. We discussed how I'd recently left me job; how a regular sustainable income would be tricky; how I'd like to find a job; how actually I'd like to up sticks and go travelling by the end of the year. It quickly became apparent that I was to find myself in a catch 22 situation, whereby she was offering me all these spangly credit card deals and money off package holidays, of the Silver or even executive Gold style account that would cost me a mere £12 a month and be debited straight from my balance, but I needed regular income...
Ah, now there's a problem. I just left my job on Friday to fulfil my wild, fanciful dreams of becoming a writer...again.
It was half an hour later that we discovered this and then my adviser girl came clean and said that my student account was as good as any current account they have to offer. All round the houses questioning, and promises of loans to enable me to go travelling, or the fab way to build up credit rating, were all just an adult step too far away. Plus I wasn't willing to pay over a tenner a month for an account just in case I decided to go on holiday or my brick of a Nokia phone breaks.
And so it was decided, despite my best adult intentions, that keeping my simple, straightforward student account was the best way forward for someone so indecisive about the direction of their life. Not such a productive day.
That was six years ago, when I set up my student account and I didn't need Dad to translate 'a free young persons rail card for five years' to know I was getting a good deal. Now though, I've been graduated for two years and thought that maybe it was time to get a more grown up account, with fewer exciting benefits like free travel and exchange them for sensible grown up advantages like content insurance and preferential travel exchange rates. I also thought I was obliged to give up the 'student' on my account. Perhaps this is just another symptom of the quarter life crisis of wanting to radically change something so it looks like I'm being authoritative and sorting my life out.
It didn't really work though.
I knew it wouldn't when I walked into the room and the adviser looked no older than 19. As if discussing money wasn't intimidating enough, I was now to feel humiliated by being spoken to by a young woman that has a better grasp on finances than me. Fine, so be it. I put on my best, 'I know how to handle money face' in the hope I could convince her I knew what I'd be doing with my money over the last five years. I went in with it clear in my mind, strictly no credit cards and no overdraft. The idea of having a credit card or overdraft frightens me because if I have money then I spend it for the sake of spending it. I'm pretty pants at saving, so spending money I don't have, then finding the money I don't have to pay back the already borrowed money, means I'm set for failure!
It started off friendly enough with plenty of questions about yours truly so she could build up a profile. We discussed how I'd recently left me job; how a regular sustainable income would be tricky; how I'd like to find a job; how actually I'd like to up sticks and go travelling by the end of the year. It quickly became apparent that I was to find myself in a catch 22 situation, whereby she was offering me all these spangly credit card deals and money off package holidays, of the Silver or even executive Gold style account that would cost me a mere £12 a month and be debited straight from my balance, but I needed regular income...
Ah, now there's a problem. I just left my job on Friday to fulfil my wild, fanciful dreams of becoming a writer...again.
It was half an hour later that we discovered this and then my adviser girl came clean and said that my student account was as good as any current account they have to offer. All round the houses questioning, and promises of loans to enable me to go travelling, or the fab way to build up credit rating, were all just an adult step too far away. Plus I wasn't willing to pay over a tenner a month for an account just in case I decided to go on holiday or my brick of a Nokia phone breaks.
And so it was decided, despite my best adult intentions, that keeping my simple, straightforward student account was the best way forward for someone so indecisive about the direction of their life. Not such a productive day.
Tuesday, 13 December 2011
Grumpy young woman
You know when you have one of those days where nothing goes right; where the following 24 hours is full of complete failures no matter how hard you try? That has been my Monday into Tuesday.
It all started to go wrong when I burnt the outside of the sausages to go with my dinner, but they weren't cooked properly in the middle so I wasn't able to eat them. I love sausages (behave!) and like to think myself somewhat of a sausage connoisseur. I'd happily eat them with anything, even green eggs and ham, so I was - not wanting to be too over dramatic - devastated when I couldn't eat the sausages and had to settle for just bagel, beans and fried eggs. So upsetting...
My second fail came at 3am this morning when I managed to spectacularly smash a pint full of orange squash by completely missing my bedside table. Turning on my bedside light - which, if I'd been sensible, I should have done in the first place - there was Staropraman shards everywhere and a torrent of orange squash creeping it's way under my bed and down towards the wrapped Christmas presents I had out. Oh, for fuck sake. Effort. Clearing up glass, half asleep and bleary eyed isn't ideal. I'm surprised I didn't get a chunk of it lodged in my foot. I was too annoyed though that I knew I was in for a broken night's sleep and doomed to be grumpy today.
And lo and behold, I am. Unfortunately for the kids I had the patience and attention span of a gnat and they got the short end of it. Especially when the Headteacher said this morning that we're not allowed to show DVDs this week, so there goes my lesson plans for Thursday and Friday. That and my colleagues peeved me greatly today. Was not in the mood to listen to the 'mother's gossip group' that seems to occur in our staff room. Cannot be doing with people that try to unnecessarily complicate matters or find issues where there really aren't any.
At the end of the day, when I just wanted to go home, I waited for the bus to discover that I was 20p short on my Oyster card and the driver wouldn't let me on. This resulted in a long walk in heels to the nearest shop to top up. When I finally made it home, I again managed to under cook my sausages for dinner, which was especially shit as it was bangers and mash; kind of an integral part of the dish really.
To top it all off, I found out that I didn't even get short listed for a job that I thought I'd be made for: an editorial assistant for a healthy food magazine. I'm healthy and I like food, how could they not have gleamed that? It just rounded off a naff 24 hours. *Sigh* Nice day tomorrow please!
It all started to go wrong when I burnt the outside of the sausages to go with my dinner, but they weren't cooked properly in the middle so I wasn't able to eat them. I love sausages (behave!) and like to think myself somewhat of a sausage connoisseur. I'd happily eat them with anything, even green eggs and ham, so I was - not wanting to be too over dramatic - devastated when I couldn't eat the sausages and had to settle for just bagel, beans and fried eggs. So upsetting...
My second fail came at 3am this morning when I managed to spectacularly smash a pint full of orange squash by completely missing my bedside table. Turning on my bedside light - which, if I'd been sensible, I should have done in the first place - there was Staropraman shards everywhere and a torrent of orange squash creeping it's way under my bed and down towards the wrapped Christmas presents I had out. Oh, for fuck sake. Effort. Clearing up glass, half asleep and bleary eyed isn't ideal. I'm surprised I didn't get a chunk of it lodged in my foot. I was too annoyed though that I knew I was in for a broken night's sleep and doomed to be grumpy today.
And lo and behold, I am. Unfortunately for the kids I had the patience and attention span of a gnat and they got the short end of it. Especially when the Headteacher said this morning that we're not allowed to show DVDs this week, so there goes my lesson plans for Thursday and Friday. That and my colleagues peeved me greatly today. Was not in the mood to listen to the 'mother's gossip group' that seems to occur in our staff room. Cannot be doing with people that try to unnecessarily complicate matters or find issues where there really aren't any.
At the end of the day, when I just wanted to go home, I waited for the bus to discover that I was 20p short on my Oyster card and the driver wouldn't let me on. This resulted in a long walk in heels to the nearest shop to top up. When I finally made it home, I again managed to under cook my sausages for dinner, which was especially shit as it was bangers and mash; kind of an integral part of the dish really.
To top it all off, I found out that I didn't even get short listed for a job that I thought I'd be made for: an editorial assistant for a healthy food magazine. I'm healthy and I like food, how could they not have gleamed that? It just rounded off a naff 24 hours. *Sigh* Nice day tomorrow please!
Monday, 12 December 2011
That Christmas feeling
Four more days to go,
Four more days of sorrow.
Four more days in that old dump,
But I will be at work tomorrow.
Despite there's still four days left at work, this week should be a fairly relaxed and easy week to get through. No, not because I'm going to show a DVD every lesson - as tempting as that might be - but most of my classes are having to do their assessment pieces. Means I can sit back, while they sit in silence (the quietest they've been all term) and write their little hearts out. Lovely.
Everyone seems ready for Christmas now. It's getting to that point that colleagues, loved ones and friends are starting to feel tired and twitchy and need a break. Personally I had the break down and fed up feeling about two weeks ago; I think I've been carrying on in a state of day-to-day delirium just to get through it. The cracks are starting to show among my more stable-minded friends now too, so that's a clear sign that everyone must have had enough.
I think what brought it on was our most festive house-mate and friends weekend. Biggest roast ever, crackers, lots of mulled wine, decorations and The Hat Game (like Articulate and Charades, but better!), generally it was awesome and a lot of fun. Really it felt like Christmas was here already, so the reality of going back to work was like a stinging slap in the face with a chicken carcass.
If, dear reader, you're feeling like this too, then I urge you to stay strong. There's either four days left for you (if in education) or a week and 3/4 days. You lucky people! It'll be here before you know it, then we'll all be beached in front of the TV watching The Muppet Christmas Carol for the fourteenth time, stuffing our faces with chocolate while our mothers slave over the most anticipated roast of the year. Perfect.
RoseC -x-
Four more days of sorrow.
Four more days in that old dump,
But I will be at work tomorrow.
Despite there's still four days left at work, this week should be a fairly relaxed and easy week to get through. No, not because I'm going to show a DVD every lesson - as tempting as that might be - but most of my classes are having to do their assessment pieces. Means I can sit back, while they sit in silence (the quietest they've been all term) and write their little hearts out. Lovely.
Everyone seems ready for Christmas now. It's getting to that point that colleagues, loved ones and friends are starting to feel tired and twitchy and need a break. Personally I had the break down and fed up feeling about two weeks ago; I think I've been carrying on in a state of day-to-day delirium just to get through it. The cracks are starting to show among my more stable-minded friends now too, so that's a clear sign that everyone must have had enough.
I think what brought it on was our most festive house-mate and friends weekend. Biggest roast ever, crackers, lots of mulled wine, decorations and The Hat Game (like Articulate and Charades, but better!), generally it was awesome and a lot of fun. Really it felt like Christmas was here already, so the reality of going back to work was like a stinging slap in the face with a chicken carcass.
If, dear reader, you're feeling like this too, then I urge you to stay strong. There's either four days left for you (if in education) or a week and 3/4 days. You lucky people! It'll be here before you know it, then we'll all be beached in front of the TV watching The Muppet Christmas Carol for the fourteenth time, stuffing our faces with chocolate while our mothers slave over the most anticipated roast of the year. Perfect.
RoseC -x-
Thursday, 8 December 2011
Making wrongs a-right
I'm taking a night off writing this evening (apart from this blog) and have instead replaced work with a bottle of red wine and some chocolate.
Today has been a complete faff around. It's been one of those days where you just don't know if you're coming or going, and you think you need to go one way, to find that you need to go another. I found myself on the wrong floor of the school several times today and then questioning how I got there and why did my legs and brain think I needed to go to the first floor when my lesson was on the third. A clear sign of how tired I am.
That was minor though. My biggest random, stupid brain disengaging with action moment, was when I picked up the wrong packet of Christmas cards that I wanted to buy and didn't even register until I got home. Any normal person would be like, "Ah well, these are the wrong ones, but they're fine, so I'll hold on to them." Problem is, I'm a fussy fucker. I've never been a fan of sending cards. Whether it's birthdays, Christmas or Easter, I think they're so expensive for what they are, and then they're thrown away/recycled a week later anyway. I'd rather save that £3 for another drink for said celebration.
However, I caved last year and bought a pack of cards. Now, picking cards is a big deal for me. If I'm going to part with the money then I want them to be good cards, attractively decorated and be the card on my friend's mantelpiece that makes them go, "FUCK YEAH! Now that's a cracking Christmas card!"
Ok, that might be a slight exaggeration. They're nice, but not that nice. I went for the moral high ground instead and got a few packs of charity cards. Good karma will be sailing my way soon...
Anyway, I digress; the point is I literally stood in the shop for a good 10 minutes trying to decide between three different pack designs, so you can imagine my horror when I got home, unloaded my bag and discovered that I picked up a pack of the nice ones and then a pack of the tackier ones rather than two packs of the good ones. Gutted! Today I went to get them exchanged and there is no greater shame than walking into a charity shop to ask to swap something.
"Err, hi. I accidentally bought these cards yesterday, but they're not the ones I wanted."
"Right." Blank, but friendly, expression from the shop assistant.
"So, I'd like to change them? Please?"
"Oh. What's wrong with them?"
"Well, there were three designs and I had a packet of each in my hand and I meant to buy the two nicely designed packets, and I'm quite anal about picking cards..."
"Sorry, what? 'The nice two of three packs?' But they're all nice. They're all well crafted charity cards made by local church groups."
"Yeah, course, that's right, but there were two packets that were slightly nicer than this one with the berries and the glitter that I'd like to return."
"Well they're only 99p a pack, maybe you'd just like to buy an extra pack of charity cards?" Smug, eager smile from shop assistant.
"That, wasn't, exactly my plan...no. You see I have a problem with spending money on cards, and I think they're a bit of a waste of money generally, so I just want two packets, not three. So if I could just exchange these red berry cards."
At which point I showed my receipt, held my head up as high as I could (circumstances considered) and remained adamant that these cards needed changing. I got my way, happy that I got the cards I wanted, but worried I may be the first person to return something to a charity shop.
For the price they were I shouldn't have been so tight and just bought another pack! Such is my Scrooge-like character when it comes to card giving though.
At least I only made a mix up on a pack of cards I picked up. I heard another story today where someone accidentally bought the wrong house, whereby they bought the house next door to the one they actually wanted. Quite how anyone manages this, paperwork and all, I don't know, but EPIC fail...
RoseC -x-
Today has been a complete faff around. It's been one of those days where you just don't know if you're coming or going, and you think you need to go one way, to find that you need to go another. I found myself on the wrong floor of the school several times today and then questioning how I got there and why did my legs and brain think I needed to go to the first floor when my lesson was on the third. A clear sign of how tired I am.
That was minor though. My biggest random, stupid brain disengaging with action moment, was when I picked up the wrong packet of Christmas cards that I wanted to buy and didn't even register until I got home. Any normal person would be like, "Ah well, these are the wrong ones, but they're fine, so I'll hold on to them." Problem is, I'm a fussy fucker. I've never been a fan of sending cards. Whether it's birthdays, Christmas or Easter, I think they're so expensive for what they are, and then they're thrown away/recycled a week later anyway. I'd rather save that £3 for another drink for said celebration.
However, I caved last year and bought a pack of cards. Now, picking cards is a big deal for me. If I'm going to part with the money then I want them to be good cards, attractively decorated and be the card on my friend's mantelpiece that makes them go, "FUCK YEAH! Now that's a cracking Christmas card!"
Ok, that might be a slight exaggeration. They're nice, but not that nice. I went for the moral high ground instead and got a few packs of charity cards. Good karma will be sailing my way soon...
Anyway, I digress; the point is I literally stood in the shop for a good 10 minutes trying to decide between three different pack designs, so you can imagine my horror when I got home, unloaded my bag and discovered that I picked up a pack of the nice ones and then a pack of the tackier ones rather than two packs of the good ones. Gutted! Today I went to get them exchanged and there is no greater shame than walking into a charity shop to ask to swap something.
"Err, hi. I accidentally bought these cards yesterday, but they're not the ones I wanted."
"Right." Blank, but friendly, expression from the shop assistant.
"So, I'd like to change them? Please?"
"Oh. What's wrong with them?"
"Well, there were three designs and I had a packet of each in my hand and I meant to buy the two nicely designed packets, and I'm quite anal about picking cards..."
"Sorry, what? 'The nice two of three packs?' But they're all nice. They're all well crafted charity cards made by local church groups."
"Yeah, course, that's right, but there were two packets that were slightly nicer than this one with the berries and the glitter that I'd like to return."
"Well they're only 99p a pack, maybe you'd just like to buy an extra pack of charity cards?" Smug, eager smile from shop assistant.
"That, wasn't, exactly my plan...no. You see I have a problem with spending money on cards, and I think they're a bit of a waste of money generally, so I just want two packets, not three. So if I could just exchange these red berry cards."
At which point I showed my receipt, held my head up as high as I could (circumstances considered) and remained adamant that these cards needed changing. I got my way, happy that I got the cards I wanted, but worried I may be the first person to return something to a charity shop.
For the price they were I shouldn't have been so tight and just bought another pack! Such is my Scrooge-like character when it comes to card giving though.
At least I only made a mix up on a pack of cards I picked up. I heard another story today where someone accidentally bought the wrong house, whereby they bought the house next door to the one they actually wanted. Quite how anyone manages this, paperwork and all, I don't know, but EPIC fail...
RoseC -x-
Tuesday, 6 December 2011
Girls got bollocks ya'know!
So it's been a day since I've broken the 'big news' that I'm to go out on a limb and try to forge a career being a freelance writer with no financial back up plan...other than sponging off the parents if needed.
All things considered I'm feeling pretty good about it. I've had one journalist say he "admires my balls". If I was in my old, adult infused line of work I'm sure I would have come up with some witty innuendo, but instead I took the compliment and said thank you. In fact it's shocking how many of my friends have come out of the woodwork and admitted they wish they had the bollocks to cut loose and do it too because already, even at the tender age of 24/25, they find themselves stuck in jobs they don't enjoy. That's not cool. That's not living, what are supposed to be, your freedom years. Bah to it all I say!
Tonight has been very productive too. When I said I was going to throw myself into writing I thought it might take me a week to two to get round to it; procrastination is a bitch and unfortunately I find I suffer from it quite a lot when I write. Luckily, this has not been the case. I actually had to force myself to sleep last night because I had a few too many excitable ideas floating around in my head. This is good, very good in fact because it means I'm on target to get at least two feature pitches written up tonight and plan to do more tomorrow, however it's not so good when you're clock's telling you it's 1am and you have to get up in five hours.
Hopefully all of this optimism will pay off. I guess the rejection letters haven't started rolling in yet and I think that'll be the true test of how strong my balls are...
RoseC -x-
All things considered I'm feeling pretty good about it. I've had one journalist say he "admires my balls". If I was in my old, adult infused line of work I'm sure I would have come up with some witty innuendo, but instead I took the compliment and said thank you. In fact it's shocking how many of my friends have come out of the woodwork and admitted they wish they had the bollocks to cut loose and do it too because already, even at the tender age of 24/25, they find themselves stuck in jobs they don't enjoy. That's not cool. That's not living, what are supposed to be, your freedom years. Bah to it all I say!
Tonight has been very productive too. When I said I was going to throw myself into writing I thought it might take me a week to two to get round to it; procrastination is a bitch and unfortunately I find I suffer from it quite a lot when I write. Luckily, this has not been the case. I actually had to force myself to sleep last night because I had a few too many excitable ideas floating around in my head. This is good, very good in fact because it means I'm on target to get at least two feature pitches written up tonight and plan to do more tomorrow, however it's not so good when you're clock's telling you it's 1am and you have to get up in five hours.
Hopefully all of this optimism will pay off. I guess the rejection letters haven't started rolling in yet and I think that'll be the true test of how strong my balls are...
RoseC -x-
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