When I first moved away from my life as a copywriter and dipped my toes into writing features/editorial material, I was often told my writing was too pretentious, flowery and filled with unnecessary adjectives. No, this is not to say all copywriting is pretentious, flowery and filled with unnecessary adjectives – that is just a measure of what a terrible copywriter I made. It took a lot of chiselling to shed that habit and get into editorial mode, and I have chiseled away at this new style for over two years now. So Imagine my incredible joy when a new client (I’m testing waters with a new area kind of work, similar to what I used to do before) gave me feedback today, asking for the copy I’d turned in to be “less editorial and more descriptive” ?!
The worst part of freelancing is payments. Everything about payments. Invoicing, keeping track of each individual publication’s process – some like a soft copy, some like a hard copy sent to them, some like both, some ask me to even scan it in addition to mailing them a physical copy. – ugh! So don’t even get me started on the effort that goes into tracking and following up on outstanding payments.
8 out of every 10 clients requires that I following up with them, despite following the protocol/process they have dictated. Today, however, I got a call from the accounts person of a publication I just did a single piece for. That’s right, a client’s accounts person followed up with me. She called to ask why I hadn’t deposited a cheque she sent me ten days ago. And she urged me to do it soon.
I was gobsmacked. And immediately very grateful. I posted about it on facebook, amidst a flurry fo heart emojis and my heart was brimming with love and gratitude. For all of five minutes this freelancing world seemed just a little less hostile, less treacherous, less intimidating.
And then, someone commented “It’s tax season.”
First I muted out Candy Crush invites. Then I went after all the other game invites people started sending me. Then I muted out the food. Then the food bloggers. Then the sareepacters. Then the odd saree posts that still slipped through the cracks and made it to my feed. Most recently, I’ve been weeding out the incessant news-posters. And the agitators. And the armchair activists. Actually I just wanted to get rid of their shrill opinions. It was beginning to get so noisy. And it’s always one thing or another, it just bloody never ends. How do people find the time? Is someone secretly handing out 30 hour days to a select few who find themselves to be extra inclined to using social network as a medium to be an activist?
Just when you think you’ve kept all the noise out, Women’s Day comes along. So yesterday I had to weed out all the Women’s Day message posters. Because with their sugary sweet token messages, out came their ugly belief systems.
I am now down to following about 6.5 friends. And a handful of publications and groups I depend on for work.
Itna sannata kyun hai bhai?
(lolkj, I like it here)
Speaking of Women’s Day, here’s a piece S wrote for News Minute that pretty much beautifully, and succinctly, summarises lots of fragmented conversation, rants and raves we indulged in, over the course of yesterday.
We ranted, virtually frothing at the mouth, emboldening feelings of superiority bubbled to the surface. Then, my house help asked me what Women’s Day is.
I tried to explain it. I tried. And I failed, while she just looked at me like, 🤔😳🤔😳🤔😳
And with that, I just received my Women’s Day jab, square in my tummy where it hurts most.