An e-mail arrives.
In the opening line I’m described as ‘a force for creative writing in the region’.
I nearly spit coffee across my desk.
It’s an email with details of an event local to me which is dedicated to getting school kids to write. It has workshops to go through poetry and story telling. In the evening they’re putting on a bit of live performance. Would I be interested in coming and doing a bit of teaching?
Yes, but not yet would be the simple answer. A longer one would be something on the lines of feeling I’ve done nothing of note so far in any kind of writing field. I have had one movie made and screened and a show put on in a small theatre. Neither of these things paid any money, neither of them have led to anything else. I have a quick nightmarish thought about being surrounded by a group of school kids, pads at the ready, when one leans forward and asks “What have you done then?”. I struggle for an answer and upon giving my writing CV verbally they look at me confused with an air of “Who the hell does this guy think he is?”.
So I decline which is a shame because there’s ‘a budget for tutors’ which, unless I’m getting the completely wrong end of a stick here, means I would have got paid. My first job related to writing would be to tell everybody else how to write? I have a deep discomfort with that idea.