Written 23rd September 2017
It’s after 4 pm on a chilly Saturday afternoon.
As I write, I’m sitting on a bench at my local skatepark, plugged into a brown noise generator and trying to make sense of a few things.
Last night I went to a local pub to see a good friend playing drums with his new band. I only made it in time for the second set, but what I heard was excellent. He seems to have found a band that properly fits him, which is good to see.
These days, I don’t get out much socially. That might be because I don’t have many friends, or much spare cash, or because I’m too miserable to face the prospect of being cheerful for a couple of hours. Let’s face it, I can be a morose sod at the best of times. I have my moments, of course. When I’m on form, I’m a decent bloke to be around, even if my sense of humour is often misunderstood.
This week, I also made it to a motorcycle club meeting near Canterbury. Plenty of plans were made for the coming year, including a possible trip to Wheels and Waves in Biarritz. I’d like to be there if I can make it work.
Karta seems to be settling into grammar school life well enough. His handwriting needs work, and I need to keep him practising his spellings, but he is full of ideas. I think he will find his place there.
A couple of photography jobs appeared over the summer. One involved documenting rides and grounds at Dreamland so a graphic artist friend could prepare promotional posters. It did not pay much, but it might lead to other work.
Next month I’m shooting a wedding for friends. I had given up on weddings because they are stressful, and no matter how much people promise artistic freedom, the same formula usually drags you back in. If someone wanted to pay me properly to shoot a wedding my way, I would be far more interested. Other people make that work, so why not me?
Maybe I should try marketing myself that way. Maybe environmental portraits are the route. Maybe something else entirely.
That word again. Maybe.
One thing is certain. If I do not start making proper money soon, I’m going to lose my mind. I’m good at web work. I can take a decent photograph. I can write an okay story. I have spent so much time analysing why things do not work that I am beginning to suspect the obstacle is me.
People keep saying that if you want something badly enough, you find a way.
Maybe I have not been hungry enough. Maybe I need to become more mercenary. Maybe the people from my past who made a success of things understood that earlier than I did. I am a good man, a soft man in many ways, but perhaps I need firmer edges. The trick is finding them without becoming someone I dislike.
Money is too tight to mention, as the song goes, and in our case, it is true. We are technically living in poverty. Most months are a juggling act. Money moves from one place to another, so bills can land in some sort of order. Some late, some early, but usually paid within the month. Rent is the biggest expense, then food, then fuel. I know we are not the only ones struggling, but sometimes it feels very lonely.
So what is the answer?
I have tried looking for regular work, but I’m getting nowhere. Maybe my CV is wrong. Maybe I look overqualified. Maybe I do not fit what people expect. Either way, nothing is moving.
Working for myself, using the skills I already have, still feels like the only route that might change life for my family and me. But that requires confidence, focus, and a willingness to take myself seriously.
That may be the real work.
A good friend recently told me that I need to focus on fixing myself first. Do that, and everything else might fall into place.
I think she might be right.
Until next time,
adieu.