30 Second Commute

Stephanie Dickison

Description

A comic narrative about the real life of a full-time writer, Stephanie Dickison had been publishing articles and features for more than a decade, but in December 2005 she took the plunge and became a full-time freelancer'. Drawing on her years as a book and pop music critic, she delves into food writing, celebrity interviews and feature articles. Included in this memoir are cautionary tales of what happens when someone works as their own boss, agrees to every offer and types for more than 14 hours a day.'

Informations

• Publié par: Ecw Press
• Date de parution: 15 décembre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781554905454
• Langue: English

Extrait

the 30-second commute:
a non-fiction comedy about writing and working from home
Stephanie Dickison
ECW Press

ECW Press
Copyright © Stephanie Dickison, 2009
Published by ECW Press, 2120 Queen Street East, Suite 200,
Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4E 1E2 / 416.694.3348 / [e-mail]
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any process — electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise — without the prior written permission of the copyright owners and ECW Press.
LIBRARY AND ARCHIVES CANADA CATALOGUING IN PUBLICATION
Dickison, Stephanie The 30-second commute : a non-fiction comedy about writing and working from home / Stephanie Dickison. ISBN-13: 978-1-55022-837-3
ISBN-10: 1-55022-837-4 1. Dickison, Stephanie. 2. Authors — Biography. 3. Freelance journalism. i. Title. ii. Title: Thirty second commute. PN153.D52 2009 808'.02023 C2008-902419-2
The publication of The 30 -Second Commute has been generously supported by the Canada Council for the Arts, which last year invested $20.1 million in writing and publishing throughout Canada, by the Ontario Arts Council, by the Government of Ontario through Ontario Book Publishing Tax Credit, by the OMDC Book Fund, an initiative of the Ontario Media Development Corporation, and by the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program (BPIDP).
Editor: Jennifer Hale
Cover Design: David Gee
Text Design and Typesetting: Melissa Kaita
Printer: Transcontinental 1 2 3 4 5
Printed and Bound in Canada









For Mom and Dad, Ripper and Bogie — The best family a girl could ask for. Thank you for introducing me to books, art, and culture, and letting me rock out. Somehow I managed to make a career out of it. And to Scott Albert — Thank you for talking to me at a party. And changing everything. You rock my world.


This is a work of non-fiction.
That said, I have an imperfect memory (the '90s are a complete blur — I may have been Courtney Love at one point), so dates may be incorrect, but generally, it happened around the time I said it did.
As well, to keep the book under 10,000 pages, I've sometimes condensed times and events.
And names may have been changed to protect myself or the guy who ate too much at the restaurant. I assure you I'm not getting all James Frey/Jayson Blair/Stephen Glass on your ass. I'm just telling you like it is — as much as I can on a liter of wine and a pound of foie gras every other night.
— Stephanie

“There isn't a writer who gets an editor to consider his work or, better yet, a real live publishing contract from a press, who doesn't fantasize that his work might take the world by storm.”
— The Forest for the Trees
30-second commute soundtrack Name Artist Page 1 don't panic coldplay 001 2 hollaback girl gwen stefani 005 3 i'm on it (wikipedia) sudden death 007 4 like spinning plates radiohead 012 5 work it missy elliot 016 6 i go to work kool moe dee 025 7 the taste of ink the used 029 8 working for the weekend loverboy 032 9 road to nowhere talking heads 035 10 subject to change sum 41 037 11 say it right nelly furtado 043 12 my neck, my back khia 045 13 welcome to the jungle guns n' roses 048 14 cold sweat james brown 053 15 paid tha cost to be da boss snoop dogg 055 16 lost in the supermarket the clash 058 17 big girls don't cry fergie 065 18 the vagina song the bloodhound gang 076 19 one thing leads to another the fixx 079 20 lifestyles of the rich and famous good charlotte 082 21 all these things that i've done the killers 085 22 this is how we do it montell jordan 089 23 wrapped up in books belle & sebastian 093 24 tongue like a battering ram faction 095 25 catch me while I'm sleeping pink 102 26 i woke up with this song in my head... bright eyes 105 27 please don't stop the music rihanna 109 28 daft punk is playing at my house lcd soundsystem 114 29 by myself linkin park 116 30 mr. telephone man new edition 118 Name Artist Page 31 first i look at the purse contours 122 32 boots of spanish leather bob dylan 126 33 hangin' tough new kids on the block 131 34 hamburger lady throbbing gristle 134 35 (you gotta) fight for your right the beastie boys 137 36 memphis soul stew king curtis 140 37 too much pork for just one fork southern culture on... 142 38 you never met a motherfucker quite... kid rock 148 39 cut the curtains billy talent 153 40 take lots with alcohol alkaline trio 155 41 guava jelly bob marley 160 42 eat to the beat blondie 163 43 banquet bloc party 166 44 buffalo stance neneh cherry 168 45 pleasure is all mine björk 171 46 sukiyaki a taste of honey 173 47 don't stop believin' journey 175 48 potato chips polka brave combo 177 49 chocolate rain tay zonday 180 50 until the day i die story of the year 185
don't panic
IT'S 8:35 A.M. on a Wednesday and I am traveling West on the subway. I actually had to push my way on, cramming the already crammed folks into the berth of the train. The first stop is being announced when a baby in a stroller starts making that insistent half cry that says, “Pay attention to me! Now! ” This continues for all seven stops that I am traveling, along with the sighs and grumbles of the crowd.
I see people stare at the infant with such fury: This is the only part of the day in which I get to read/sleep/finish my report/do sudoku/have a little quiet to get lost in. I'm beggin' ya, kid, please, gimme a little respite from this crazy world.
There is a huge gap in the middle of the car. A bunch of us try to make our way over, but we are stopped by people who appear immobilized. What's the holdup, bub? As I shuffle my way into the center as much as the crowd will allow, I am hit by a wave of nausea so violent that I buckle a little. There's a homeless man passed out across a three-seat bench beside the door and people have clearly gotten as close as they can without passing out. There is a wide clearance of a couple of feet.
A couple stands in the middle of the car chest-to-chest, but doesn't make eye contact. It's clear that something's happened overnight or over coffee this morning that has wedged itself uncomfortably between them. The guy reads the subway ads for herpes and tax deductions for low-flow toilets while the girl shoots ice picks his way, daring him to try to explain, or impatiently waiting for an apology that will never materialize.
I am now wedged against the doorway, where a man's sharp briefcase digs into the back of my leg. I try to shift away, but instead sway myself into a large woman beside me. I can't move. The subway jolts to a stop, and the briefcase hits my leg again and snags my pantyhose. I feel the nylon open and run down my leg like mercury falling.
Then a student who is struggling to stay awake, probably exhausted after a night of studying, or working at his part-time job and then studying, drops off to sleep and slumps against my back. I haven't had this much body contact since dancing at the Joker in 1992.
I look up at the ceiling, because I can't stand the breath of the guy facing me. It's like he had raw meat for breakfast. He also keeps smiling at me when our eyes meet (where else am I going to look but straight in front of me). Gross. I consider kneeing him in the balls, but really, there is no room to do anything.
I get off at my destination and walk to my appointment, thinking — never again.
Three years ago, I left an office admin job to live out the dream of writing full time.
I had been writing for a decade in the evenings and weekends, and had already been published in many publications and some books, when I decided it was time to make the leap, take the bull by the horns, take the plunge, lay the first stone, make a start, get serious, swing into action, apply myself, jump in with both feet, choose my fate and put my hand to the plow.
Or, in layman's terms, sit my ass in the chair for ten hours a day and write as much as time allowed.
It doesn't sound as exotic or romantic as you'd think, huh?
Yeah. It's not .
But when you leave your job, it is the most romantic gesture you can make, like when you decide to move in with the love of your life despite his collection of street signs or beer steins. You are trusting that you can do it. You don't know how, just that you will.
And having the mortgage due every month, wanting to eat good food and buy new discs from Aesop Rock, Blue October, and any number of the Marley offspring helps with that motivation.
But this book is not really for writers. While I am sure they will cling to the few words of wisdom I have about the writing life and look for ways to do anything but what's required (sit down, stare at the screen, and try to make words come out), it is for all of those folks who wonder what a writer's day looks like. After all, that is the question which I am asked most — “What do you do every day?” or “What's it like to be a writer?”
I think it's funny that there is such interest in a writer's life, when most people claim to have a book written in their head, but just don't have the time to put it all down .
That's the difference between us and them — we sit down every day and pound out every inch of ourselves while they think about how relaxing it would be just to sit down and write. It's so easy! they say. They have no idea . They moan about how much they'd like to work at home but what they really want is to be closer to the fridge and television, and not be accountable to anyone. In fact, working at home takes a lot more discipline than you might imagine. You can't let the idea that the sun is shining and there's a strip of stores and coffee shops just a few blocks away keep you from writing the 4,000-word article that's due tomorrow.
I wrote this book because I wanted to reveal all that there is to the writing life. After all, most of the time it's pretty comical. The romantic notion most people have about writing is close in that yes, we a