I've noticed that writers who go pro, as in now write for a living, tend to brag a bit about the fact they no longer have to wear normal work clothes. Max Barry waxed lyrical about writing in boxers and Julie Powell about getting to flop about in PJs whilst writing. I think Reilly wears speedos or something when he goes and fingers the keys.
Just once I'd like to see a book's potted biog of a new writer say something like 'Terry dresses up in full evening dress, spats, top hat, monocle to craft each of his splendid tomes' or even 'Tod hangs upside like a bat, clinging to the rafters with special made bat feet as he claims the rush of blood to the head gives him cerebral powers beyond the ken of mortal understanding.'
Come on writers. Just because you get to work from home now doing something you love is no reason to lord it over the rest of us fuckers who still have to go to work.
On a side note TheNoo this morning ralphed all over my work shirt (ending its wearing by me that day after a scant three minutes). Without thinking I stuck on a new beige corduroy shirt. It was only about 10.30 am when I realized it was the same colour as my pants.
I looked like fat Elvis meets Mr Rourke.
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
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1 comments:
Oooh all beige is not a good look! But there's no better excuse for looking unstylish than being a harried, puked-on parent :)
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