Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Yo.
I would very much like to crawl into a paper sack today. I had to get up extra early this morning to work on some Oscar stuff here at The Job. There are doughnuts and croissants a-plenty lying about. It's a carb overload that seems to have sent me into a carb coma. Too many carbs plus rainy weather equals me dreaming about my down comforter and a bed.
Yesterday I also faxed in the invoice for another big magazine piece. This is the part of the equation where I get nervous. I like researching articles, any article, and I like writing and doing the first rounds of edits. Then I hand it in and get that scary feeling of worthlessness. After all, who is to say that what I just wrote is any good? Then I fax in the invoice.
The invoice is key because that's how a writer gets paid. Generally speaking if you hand in something, anything, the mags are contracturally obligated to sending you the agreed upon fee. But until I get that check, and until it's nestled into my bank account, I can't stop thinking about whether or not I paid the cabe bill. Are the student loan people going to come chasing after me, with knives? If I am paranoid, then I am paranoid about being kicked out my Gramercy bunker and being being forced to sell pencils in the street.
In all liklihood this will never happen, but still. While other people fear airplanes or heights or clowns, I fear being kicked out of my building and being unable to afford my weekly manicures. I guess it's a good motivator.
In other news, today will be spent writing a review of an Ella Fitzgerald DVD. I'll post it up once it's out and spinning around the globe.
