The first half of today was much more difficult than yesterday. Well, not really difficult, but definitely not as fun. A full day of just reading emails, documents, manuscripts, synopsis, contracts and so forth — hoping to magically understand the Agency and know it inside and out — is problematic.
One, I was so afraid that I would forget something important, and completely cock something up. So, I tried taking notes, like I was studying for an exam, but anytime reading becomes note taking, it’s suddenly a task and no longer interesting. Which leads me to the second problem: concentration.
I just couldn’t focus. I tried switching documents, reorganising my notes, or picking something in particular about the company to research then focusing on that. But no matter what, nothing was sinking in. In fact, if Loraine asked me to list all of our clients, I don’t know if I could remember more than a couple. Of course, I remember the big names. And I remember most of their manuscripts. Or at least I remember the basic principle of their manuscripts — ie. this story is about a lady in Plithlessie whose dog is her father. Okay that’s not one of the stories, but you get my point. I can kind of remember what the client is supposed to be writing, but I can’t remember their names.
And because I couldn’t concentrate, my mind floated off to other things. Like stupid fucker twat fucks who have lied to me, most recently HarryPotter. In fairness, I’m kind of proud of myself that I’m not paralytic over the whole situation. A year or so ago, if he had done that to me, I would have called in sick to work and cried until I barfed while listening to soulful music that reminded me of our love. So, I’m handling it better than that. But, instead of going down the ‘woe is me’ route, I’m going down the ‘what is wrong with me?’ route. Why do I keep falling for people who treat me however they want?
A tiny part of me wonders if it’s because I fall into bed too quickly. But then I feel quite guilty for even thinking that. If men can fall into bed with whoever they want without worrying about getting their heart handed back to them in an emotional bag of lies, then why can’t I? And, with HP, I most certainly didn’t fall into bed too quickly. Okay, fair point, I hadn’t seen him in nearly a year, and before I knew it we were shagging each other silly. But, in my defence, I wanted to shag him 14 months ago (or maybe it was longer ago than that, but who’s counting?). Anyway, I didn’t jump his bones back then. I waited. So, the falling into bed too soon can’t be the reason HP treated me like shit.
Is it because I’m too trusting? Or is there something about me that says, ‘Oh don’t worry. Screw her over, she won’t mind’? Do I look like one of those tough as nails type women, who can handle it all? Because well, I can’t handle it all, and even if I look like I can handle it all, it doesn’t give men the right to do whatever they want.
So, you see how my brain starts spinning. It was doing this all morning, and I simply couldn’t concentrate. Until lunch…
I brought a sandwich for my lunch, as I’m still not sure of the arrangements. Loraine was in and out again today, so I didn’t want to leave, just incase she came back to find me gone. So, I stayed the whole day in the extension without a pee break or a cup of tea. But I did have my sandwich.
Anyway, I was eating my lunch at my desk when a got a call from the London office. It was the lovely AdminLady, ringing to say ‘Hello’. She asked me if I had any problems with my log in, and she wanted to make sure that I could access all the folders and drives. I told her it was all going smoothly.
Then she tells me that she’s handling the social media aspect of the Agency: the website, the blog, Facebook and Twitter. The Agency, until recently, only had a static webpage that was updated when we got new clients. But, following the more American system of doing things, the Agency is now attempting to interact with the public in hopes of driving traffic (and subsequently more sales) towards their authors. They’re working with the publishers and the authors to help promote events, books and sales through social media. Smart, right? (AdminLady explained that this has become common practice in the US, but the UK is still lagging behind.) So, she brings up Facebook, Twitter and the Blog.
She said that she tries to update Facebook and Twitter, so to please let her know of any author news or events. Also, they have a new blog, and all the agents try to put up a post at least once a week. Just to keep the content going. She then asked if I wanted to be added to the blog schedule.
Unlike MNM, where no one had a clue as to how the internet worked, these guys are up to date on all the internet mod cons. Could they find my NFTI blog? Am I being anon enough? Should I stop blogging? I think we all know the answer to that, so let’s rephrase. ‘Will I stop blogging?’ I also think we know the answer to that. So, I’ll just keep on blogging and worrying that they’ll find me and sack me, but not do anything about it like stop blogging.
Outside of that predicament, what would I post on the Agency blog? I’ve only just started working here. What would I say? ‘Hello. I’m new here, and I have no fucking clue as to what I’m doing.’
I asked if I could think about it, and she said that was no problem. I could just let her know when I was ready to be put on the schedule. But…in the mean time…could I give her just one little post and a bio?…By the end of the day.
The bio is for the main website, and she wants the blog post to be about being the new girl. WTF! I thought she said I could wait and have a think about it, and just let her know when I was ready. Well, I’m not ready! And by the end of the day? No pressure there. Plus, writing a blog post is bad enough, but what do I say in my bio?
Hello. I’m new to the Agency. I have no fucking clue as to what goes on here. I have no idea how I got the job. I used to intern for a publishers full of arseholes and crooks, but I cocked that up as well. I did a bit of volunteer work for a literary festival, but now I realise that standing about taking tickets for a festival means nothing in publishing. Oh yeah, I have a first degree in English, but I probably only got it because I was sleeping with my dissertation supervisor.
HarryPotter was out of my mind for the rest of the day, as I tried to write a bio and a blog. I’d start a sentence, and then delete it and start again. Not only did I not know what to say, what if I spelled something wrong, or, heaven forbid, use the wrong ‘their’ or ‘your’? I know that’s not a sin in the real world, but in the publishing world that could get me sacked. Couldn’t it?
By five o’clock I had nothing, and my deadline was up, so I typed up the first thing that came to mind. Did a spell check and sent it on. Let’s hope it passes.
Oh, and I still didn’t use the bathroom all day. I don’t feel comfortable going about my bosses house looking for the loo. So at 5:00 I was out the door like a race horse, running to my flat so I could finally take a pee. Yeah, I’ve got to get the bathroom thing sorted, or else my bladder will hate me forever. I’ll bring it up with Loraine tomorrow.