Tuesday, 1 April 2008

Pity party - you're all invited!

Well... I intended to have a pity party tonight. Just you, me and a fine red 'Georges Duboeuf Fleurie' 2006. I wanted to whitter on about how my job hell had sunk lower than Captain Nemo ever dared to venture - that the only thing beneath me now is Satan himself. Then I popped onto a blog I liked (The Girl Who... - check Monica out) and from there was sent to this link:

Well, reading about a 16 month old child with cancer is enough to sober anyone. I grabbed for my wallet and donated to this poor family who really know the pit of despair. They discovered their child was ill - on vacation... miles from home. There they are ensconced. Struggling through the days, praying that their darling daughter will survive numerous operations and chemo etc. It wasn't an easy read. It dampened my enthusiasm for my little well of self pity that I was going to dip into. So I will explain but not dwell. Dwelling is for ejits... or those that don't know how lucky they are.

So why was my stupid day so bad? Well I emailed a lovely girl who used to send me out scripts from the BBC. I wondered what had happened to the job I have waited for over a year to come up - the assistant script editor at Eastenders. (Brit soap for all my amazing foreign readers). I had done some digging and discovered the girl who did it was promoted and her replacement was a guy on placement - who is leaving this week. Voila! The opportunity was mine for the taking! I had been in to meet the folk there twice - they knew me, I was ready - just in time for the house move and HUGE new mortgage etc.... and.... today lovely Kathleen emailed me - the job went internally.


Yes - MY job - for it had my name on it I assure you - had been advertised and the interviews already had taken place. Big bulbous tears hit the keyboard. I just didn't know where to turn to. I have spent a year trying to get into script editing. I met great bigwigs in the industry. The big wigs said "Work on a soap!" So soapwards I went. There are 7 in the UK. 3 in London. One great soap offered me a job but I had to say no - due to it being in Leeds and sprog and husband (mortgage etc) all being in London. So..... I concentrated on the 3 soaps in London. One fancies itself as a 'serial drama' so is out of my league. That leaves 2. I can't get in to one - so that leaves EE - which I love. I met with folk there and they said - the assistant script ed would be PERFECT for you! Then they gave it... blah blah - you know the rest. I was gutted. I am gutted. I have no idea where to look for work - an opening or even inspiration. Why do I always choose the hardest mountains to climb? Why couldn't I want to be something straightforward - a hairdresser or solicitor or something... And I thought getting in to presenting was hard!

Do you ever have days like today - when you wonder what the hell is against you? Does an ex-boyfriend have a freakin' voodoo doll that he is sticking more pins in than a seamstress's cushion? Anyway - I washed sproglet, fed him pasta and popped him down to sleep. He went out like a light, snuggling his new fav toy - and duck called... er, 'Duckie'. And I realised that I am blessed - with friends, family, a husband who buys me 'Taste the difference cream custard' to drown my sorrows with. And a sproglet with fuzzy hair and the best laugh in the world. Feck 'em and their job. To quote that brilliant Aries woman Scarlett - 'tomorrow is another day.'


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