Pat The Dog

One of the oddest things about being in between jobs is that there is suddenly so much time to fill, and when you’re used to working six days a week, and when you enjoy working, it’s not an easy adjustment to make. Therefore, I’m spending a lot of time these days working on a story idea I came up with in the middle of last year. Most of the writing has taken place here in the office at home, where I am writing this, but occasionally I like to grab the laptop and go somewhere else to write.

Yesterday, for example, I sat down three times to work on the first draft of what I imagine will be chapter eight. The first two times, I sat there going “hmmm, this is a tricky bit of the story to start drafting, I’m not sure how to begin this chapter – oh look! – someone just messaged me on Twitter!” The third time, around 3pm yesterday, that I sat down to have a crack at it, I got nothing so I grabbed the lappy and went to Leederville. (This is as close to writers block, I’m pleased to say, as I tend to get. I’m reminded of the story of a guy I knew who used to run Seaworld. He told me that whenever he was having a tense meeting and had reached an impasse he would go directly to the rollercoaster with whoever he was having the meeting with and as soon as they got back to the office they’d nail the rest of the meeting in no time. In other words, sometimes a change of scenery is all it takes to shake the next idea out of your head.)

Leederville is a great part of this city. It’s one of the few suburbs that remains open after sunset. When I leave town, and there will be more on that topic in my next blog, Leederville is on my list of ‘things I will miss’.

So I rocked into Sayers, grabbed a coffee and a caramel slice, and for $8.50 I bought myself an hour and a half at a quiet table, where I’m pleased to say the first draft of chapter eight practically fell out of me.

But… (come on, you knew there was a ‘but’ coming!) there’s always one guy who has to come in to the coffee shop talking at the top of his voice through his Bluetooth earpiece, right? Of course there is! And yesterday’s shining example of self-importance rocked into Sayers practically yelling down the phone something or other about a roller-door. I looked at the facial expressions around the room, and I think we all wanted to thump this dickhead. But on and on and on he went… I was pretty tempted to say something to him, but I’m just over a week into Nicotine withdrawal, and I really need to avoid confrontation until I can trust myself not to commit homicide.

So, I ignored him and kept writing. Really, it was a non-issue, but I did just want to point out to anyone who wears one of those Bluetooth earpieces that YOU DON’T SEEM TO REALIZE HOW LOUD YOU ARE TALKING WHEN YOU’VE GOT THAT THING IN YOUR EAR. JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP, FOR FUCKS SAKE, BECAUSE NONE OF US GIVE A SHIT ABOUT YOUR CONVERSATION.

Next time I get stuck, I’m thinking of going to Freo, but I’m unemployed right now so I doubt I could afford the parking.

Gav
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