As usual, I bought an appointments diary in December. It was for this year. With every shining page there glowed the hope of exciting times. Potential. Progress. What a happy little book it was! What a fat, full little book it would be! Now, one month into 2010, I can look back at the pages marked “January” and still see the same potential; they are as white and clean as the day I bought the thing. And guess what? So far, February’s looking to be similarly appointment-free. If I felt like crying, at least I have plenty of pages on which to blow my nose. There’s always a plus, eh?
I currently don’t have anyone paying me to do anything. That’s the first time since 1994. I’m not going to lie to you, it scares the living bejaysus out of me. It means I have to write the things I’ve been meaning to write for ages, too, because – for the first time in those ages – I have the time. But I cannot for the life of me seem to get paid work. I used to do voiceovers, write columns, guest on radio shows, act in radio shows, do some TV and the odd live gig: people used to pay me to do those. That was my job for over 10 years, but like so many in these recessionary times, I seem to have been fired. Now that is demoralising when you’re self-employed.
I’ve been told (by kind friends I can only refer to -kindly – as liars) that people assume I’m busy. Really? Although, one person who did give me some lovely work last year said they hadn’t contacted me earlier because when I didn’t pop up in certain shows they assumed I was “off filming somewhere exciting”. Sigh. Reader, I had not been.
I should point out that I have brilliant agents working really hard on my behalf. They’re cool. It just seems super, super quiet out there for little Irish ladies at the moment.
Work breeds work. That’s the performer’s mantra. Everything you do is supposed to lead you somewhere else. That has always been my experience, too…until now. Nothing I have done in the last 3 years has led on to more work, and (gulp) – if work breeds work, then what does not-working breed? It can only be small and creepy and crawly and, to be very honest, I’m not looking forward to it.
I will walk the dog. I will go to the gym. I will write a ton of things, 10% of which will be good enough to see the light of day, 90% of which will be deleted. I will over-plan a really simple wedding because it’s the next thing written on the pages of 2010: on March 13, I have something important to do. Thank flip for that. Oh and Edinburgh! I’ll do the Fringe, which I definitely can’t afford, but that’s the whole of August scrawled in. Feels good.
Basically, if you have anything – anything - you’d like me to do, I’m available. I’m not off filming somewhere exciting…I’m not even filming somewhere shite. I’m here. Right here. Juuuust…here. If you need proof, I can show you my diary, but for god’s sake put your shades on first.
