I sent my last email to this space cadet yesterday afternoon
saying, it’s not me, it’s you. This person had so many strange dictates and decrees
of what I should do, over several emails, that I thought, nah, life is just too
short to deal with you. I get that others, in this case, writers will do anything
for a contract and put up with all sorts of crap to get it because – I don’t know – maybe they’re scared of not getting another one or burning bridges or are
people pleases. I dunno. I do know that life is short and Shakespeare was spot
on when he said ‘to thine own self by true.’ I’m not into selling my soul or accepting
less. But that’s me.
I wished the space cadet well. Maybe she’s got issues. Maybe
it’s about toying with writers for this person. Don’t know. Don’t care. I can only
do as my conscience dictates and no one else has to agree with it or like it.
That’s what 2014 is about. Being myself, being authentic and avoiding space
cadets.
It’s a new day – a new year. I feel pretty good. Bring it
2014. I can deal.
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