The Final Countdown

I think I may have had enough. My beef isn’t with pitching – I don’t do nearly enough of it to have had enough of it – and nor is it with the semi-award-winning Pitching the World which I don’t update enough for me to be truly sick of it. No, my beef lies with my lifestyle. I think the whole commuting from Surrey to London thing and the whole prancing around all day like a tit thing isn’t quite right for me. The whole constantly-doing-sums-in-my head-because-I-never-have-enough-money-thing isn’t quite right for me. Nor is the whole grinding my teeth down to nubs and my soul down to a husk quite right either. And this state of affairs has been going on for some time. Towards the end of 2009, I wrote:

Another 600 magazines to go. It’s good having something to work towards, something with a bit of a resolution. After said 600 magazines have been pitched I reckon I’ll either be: (a) rich (b) mad (c) divorced (d) sick of bananas or (e) a combination of (b), (c) and (d). Depending on where I’m at mentally, financially, and in my relationship after all the pitches are complete, I can then decide whether I want to carry on writing for a living, become a male prostitute, or get a normal job. Whatever the hell that is.

How astute of me. As is stands I’m half-mad, half-divorced, three-quarters sick of bananas and wholly un-rich. Rather than become fully mad and fully sick of bananas I’ve decided to take a break, go to Europe and complete the necessary pitching in order to finish Pitching the World. Romantic, no? Europe in the spring? And I will do the necessary pitching. There’s no way that I’m just going to book a National Express coach down to Paris, skulk about a bit, chainsmoke my way around the cafes whilst becoming increasingly frustrated at my attempts to land a sugar mummy, then come back to the UK and my nan’s dining room floor. No way.

There is, as far as I can see, only one problem. I have nowhere in Europe to stay. True, I did spend 10 days eating out of bins and sleeping on the streets of Paris, Lyon and Barcelona when I was in my early-twenties, so I can do that again if necessary, but that was in the summer and it was warmer. True, I am going to be applying to various writing retreats in Scandanavia, France and Spain after posting this nonsense. But I’m also on the look-out for potential benefactors, sponsors, anyone really who would fancy a writer around the house for a month or so. If any Pitching the World readers fit the bill or know someone who would, then please get in touch. I can offer some money and the following skills:

  1. Good at smoking
  2. Good at building walls
  3. Reliable gardener
  4. Good at cooking stew
  5. Can write decent copy, occasionally

That I’ve put ‘Good at smoking’ at the top (the top!) of my ‘skills’ list suggests, to me at least, that if there were a sixth item on the list it would be ‘Excellent at being a fucking idiot’.

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5 responses to “The Final Countdown

  1. I lived with a french girl in Pigalle when I was a lot younger. She was pretty minted and put me up for a month. Insanely generous with her cash too. Had a thing for English writers. I’ve still got her number. I’ll dig it out and see if she’ll put you up…

    Ah, no wait..I remember now…She couldn’t stand smokers. Sorry Pitchy

  2. Ah, Chris Sanders, how you toy with me. But thanks, almost. Thanks to you too Stevie Godson – may well look into that.

  3. Smokin’

  4. Hi Pitchy,

    http://www.retreat.es

    Give Jacqueline a call 044 7827447034 – Very nice hideaway in the south of Spain.

    Best,

    Chris

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