To say the last month or so has been busy is an understatement. At the moment, I'm juggling numerous projects and a change in the way my life works. See, my boss at Scarlet decided that he needed an editor who worked from the office. I'm naturally a night person and tend to work pretty erratic hours so doing the whole office thing isn't exactly up there on the 'top ten things that appeals to me' list. In fact, it's safe to say that it's somewhere between having a bikini wax (I don't care how common it becomes, no-one is pouring hot wax onto my bits then yanking my hairs out by their roots) and waking up with a tequila hangover every morning for the rest of my life, without ever touching a drop of alcohol (hell, the second part alone would suck).
When I first went freelance, a major part of the appeal was that I'd no longer have to work in an office. In no particular order, reasons why the concept sucks:
1) As a normal freelancer, I could get out of bed, and be working within five minutes - maybe ten if my computer was sulking. Now, I waste two hours every day travelling into/back from work. OK, if I'm lucky I can maybe do some reading, but given that I have such a lousy sense of balance that I can't even ride a bike, then I can only read if I can get a seat, which is by no means guaranteed. Otherwise, I need both hands free to make sure I don't end up falling arse over tit, which obviously adds no end to my generally sunny morning disposition (I envy my friend who has such an incredible sense of balance that, when drunk, she's been known to pole-dance on the tube. Though, to my knowledge, she's never done this during her morning commute.)
2) The expense (£5 minimum travel per day plus at least the same again on lunch - making a packed lunch would involve either a) activity in mornings (see point 3) or b) soggy sandwiches - and random other expenses like coffee on the way in because there's no way I can face the trudge into work without caffeine, and even mainlining extra strong coffee at home isn't enough to carry me through by the time its effects have been filtered out by the commute)
3) Mornings. I don't like them. I work best at night. My efficiency is severely hampered by the fact that my brain is on little more than 'focus on breathing in and out' mode until at least 11.30am. In fact, if it even manages that without sulking, I'm relatively impressed.
4) Limitation in terms of what I can actually do. I write porn for work. I review sex toys. Neither of these things are particularly practical in a shared office. I've lost track of the amount of times that Jake's hand has been lazily unbuttoning Claire's shirt and his head dipping to suckle her nipple, only to be interrupted by a question about pagination on the magazine, or something else entirely devoid of erotic inspiration. Maybe I should just cut the foreplay and get straight down to the fucking?
5) Clothes. I like being able to work in a manky dressing gown. This is not appropriate office attire.
OK, I'm incredibly lucky to have the job - it's literally a dream come true (particularly when we get letters of congratulations in, as is happening increasingly). I adore the magazine, think the team are fantastic and really want to see it all work utterly amazingly. I can even see my boss's point in wanting someone in the office (it does look more professional, after all) But it's my blog and I'll whine if I want to.
If I'm entirely honest, it's not all bad. On the plus side, it's only three days a week - so I get to dread Mondays like everyone else but am breathing a huge sigh of relief by Wednesdays rather than having to wait for Friday to roll around. It also means that, rather than having a huge list of things to do and ordering them in the way that I see fit, I now have designated 'Scarlet' and 'non-Scarlet' days, which does make it a tad easier to decide I'm going to take a break. The amount of work that Scarlet generates means that, before I was in the office, I'd frequently be replying to emails at 4am. Now that it's unfeasible to check my emails when I'm out of the office (filing hell) I can just focus on writing articles for the magazine, and dealing with all my non-Scarlet work on a Thursday and Friday, then, if all goes to plan, take the weekend off (this month aside - we've been working on getting another issue ahead on the magazine, which means I've been writing just as much as always over the weekends - but hopefully, that's a one-off). Given that my New Year's Resolution was to take at least two weekends a month off, and until last week, I'd managed three weekends all year, this is a good thing for my sanity. I've even booked a holiday next week. OK, it's only Devon and it's only for four days, but it's a start. Who knows, I may come round to office life yet.
Scarlet (and whinging) aside, I've been working on various other things. My book on friendship conflict is coming along (8,000 words done, 52,000 to go by the end of June. By which time I'll probably have no friends left as I keep on having to spend nights in writing the book, rather than nights out with them.) I've been asked to pitch for two other (sex-related) books - more news if and when the deals are signed. And last week, I presented my first sex seminar for Coco de Mer - an 'Oral and Manual Masterclass'. End result was, last Sunday morning, I found myself standing in front of my bathroom mirror with a dildo, honing my 'putting a condom on with my mouth' technique for public consuption (so to speak) It being morning, I couldn't find any flavoured condoms anywhere (remember, I was having a hard time remembering to breathe in and out) so had to use one of the many Trojan condoms I had around the house (perk of being one of their official sexperts). Needless to say, I emphasised very strongly to the class exactly how important it was to get flavoured condoms. Presenting when you can still taste spermicide is no easy task.
The entire afternoon whizzed through in a haze of surrealism. I found myself pondering exactly how I'd got myself to the position where I could get paid for wanking a lubed-up dildo in front of 18 strangers (while simultaneously caressing its balls. Well, this was a masterclass) Quite how I got to the end of the session without blushing/collapsing in giggles, I don't know - but actually, it was really good fun. People seemed receptive and I had a fair few emails afterwards thanking me for the session, which was nice. I've been approached to do more seminars, so who knows, maybe I'll be wanking a dildo in a town near you soon.
But back to the nearer future. On Monday, I've been asked to attend a porn shoot. I was surprised to learn, it being one of those gonzo efforts, that they don't know who the male stars will be. The concept is that a porn actress walks along the street and picks out men at random to have sex with her. Call me naive, but I'd always figured that those type of videos were entirely made-up (particularly because I've recognised girls from the industry in the converse 'man asks women for sex' videos) But apparently, this isn't the case. Whether it's because it's easier for a female porn star to pull a man than the other way round, I don't know, but it's certainly going to be an entertaining start to the week (and, surprisingly enough, it's not happening in the office, so it's a double-whammy of good)
And finally, I'm writing a piece about casual sex for one of the women's mags and am in desperate need of case studies from people aged 25-35 and willing to be photographed about a casual sex experience that changed their life. If you (or anyone you know) would be willing, please let me know. Strangely enough, not that many people want to talk about their sex life in a national magazine...
Posted by emilyd at April 10, 2005 01:57 AM