‘Do What You Love and Let It Kill You.’

Yesterday, I got a statement from the bank.

This isn’t unusual, obviously. But it was the annual dividends statement from various savings, funds, ISAs etc. The one’s I’ve always ignored and let them get on with whatever it is they do in the hopes I don’t spend it on comic books and sweets.

Only once a year, they remind me they exist, and that whilst I’m holding that envelope they are Schroedinger’s savings – either blossoming happily or wilting away.

I didn’t open the envelope. Still haven’t in fact. I know I have dipped in more than enough times over the past three years and to see it being dribbled away because of some coked up hedge fund manager not knowing the worth of Orange juice futures would just kill me.

Well then, you say, take more interest! Look at them from time to time and play the stock market.

And my answer to that is No. Shan’t.

I don’t know what I’m doing enough to even consider it. Plus the heart palpitations I get from my Big Annual Envelope is enough to see me through, thanks.

Because the truth is there’s a lot on the line for me here. This new direction into comedy isn’t just some kind of whim, it’s….well, it’s everything. My name is out, personal details, my life, my sex life, my deepest thoughts and inner desires are all on the line. I’ve risked everything and now I wake up in a sweat and have to take myself to hospital with panic attacks because I have no other choice than to make it work.

And then I read this.

James Rhodes Guardian

From The Guardian

And I realise I’m not alone.

I realise this could possibly work.

I realise that all I have to do is The Work.

No one will do anything for me. I have no agent, manager, promoter, PR rep. I have no ‘people’, no producer, no contacts. Just a virulent, slightly aggressive wish to succeed. Because…I have to. What else can I do? ‘Hi, I’d love to come and work for you. Try a quick google and you’ll see I was a sex-worker for seven years and a comedian for the past three. Two career paths that every employer just loves to see on a C.V!’

I have to go to shitty New Material nights and practice 5 minutes in front of an audience made up of 20 bored comedians. I have to drive two hours to an out of town gig, say yes to a random festival, find out when the next intake for a comedy festival is going to be, apply for Buttfuck-on-sea’s 2 day fringe, keep writing to promoters, keep writing to theatres, keep hoping that someone will discover this tiny show by a girl they’ve never heard of will sell out their venue if they just give it a shot.

I have to read the painful articles on facebook and twitter, watch Sex-Worker’s rights dwindle away to keep reminding me we can all make a difference. We can help someone out there…hopefully. OK, maybe Bob and Carol have no idea what’s going on in terms of Sex-Worker’s right, they just want to see a funny show. But maybe they might come out and Start A Conversation. That would be pretty cool.

90% of my day is admin. Writing and creating is a luxury that seems to only happen at 3am, just as I’m dozing off but end up having an imaginary conversation in my head that I need to write down there and then, otherwise it will be lost to sleep.

This will kill me. The panic attacks, diet of motorway Ginsters and energy drinks aside, I’ve never worked so hard for such little financial gain. My savings dwindle, my phone rings everyday with a call from my credit card company, and I get texts from others offering me more.

But fuck me….. it’s worth it.


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One Response to “‘Do What You Love and Let It Kill You.’”

  1. Katy Harrison Says:

    I saw you perform at Salford Arts Theatre last night (I was the scruffy-looking kid who asked for your autograph) and I haven’t laughed so hard in a long time. You have a wealth of experience and your comic timing is bang on. I guess it comes down to the same shitsack people say to me about novel writing: keep plugging away (even if at times you want to stuff a buttplug up someone when something doesn’t pay off). You could create a sideline project and collate your stories/blog into a book? Keep going! No one as talented as you should be killed by energy drinks and pasties (they are good, though, aren’t they?) on the way to the top.

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