...as in yeah, I was going to write an entry, despite ever-deepening depression. I thought it might be therapeutic or, at least, informative in case anyone cares about my descent into yet another level of Hell.
PARENTHETICAL YES-I'M-BITTER THOUGHT: I know people care. Really. But the past few days, in which I've faced the demons alone, have not been good for my sense of perspective. About anything.
But I received an email at about 9:17 tonight that threw my plans off. It was the finished layout for a story I did rush-rush for my newest client. "Please check it over to see that everything's okay," the editor wrote. "And while you're at it, will you please write cutlines [captions] for the photos?"
He did the same thing last week. And, in fact, he emailed me with a really off-the-wall request for information to fit into yet another story I've written for his magazine that took a good chunk of time to chase down. These "favors" turn out to be freebies; we have no agreement about such things, and I can't reach him at this hour to negotiate.
Well, I wrote the cutlines, and now my brain is essentially worthless. Captions are, in a sense, miniature articles; in 40-60 words (the size left in the layout) they have to explain things not necessarily found in the main text. For me, they are harder than the original stories.
Damn, I hate this "just one more thing" stuff. It's often difficult for me to ask for -- much less get -- one thing; asking two things (or more) seems somehow excessive.
I suppose it's good for the image. As in, I have an image of having the work "sucker" tattooed on my forehead.
Pay no attention. I'm tired, dispirited and angry.
I'm going to bed.
And, oh, yeah: I had to inform the editor he put someone else's name on the article's byline. The ultimate insult.
7 hours ago
5 comments:
What a drag, Scribbs. If it ain't one thing, it's ten others, no?
you do what you have to do to please the "money givers". I know how degrading that can get.
He sends it to you, but had the wrong name on it? geez
Yes, you know there are people out here who care, but you have to be willing to grab the hands that reach out to you, otherwise they can't do a damn thing! (sorry for swearing).
Bird from the very-far-away-and-thus-now-out-of-reach office
tell him the truth. with no bricks or small guns.
Next you'll tell us he got the wrong name on the check and sent it to the wrong address. Grrrrrr!
S
i cant help with the job but ive found a lovely ginger kitty for you in my journal..hope he makes you smile.
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