I’m working through Labour Day because that’s what I
need to do; I need the work I’ve got and, while laborious, I’m lucky to have
it. This is the gig economy. This is the absence of nine-to-five. It’s been four
years since I’ve graduated and committed myself to freelance and contract work,
mostly in content writing and editing and publishing, with all the downtime and
late nights and hurry-up-and-wait. So, it’s Labour Day and I’m behind on work
with two jobs and trying not to think about my own neglected creative writing.
7:15AM this morning, I woke naturally, surprised to
find my phone drained of battery on the bedside table and the cats both lying
quietly at the foot of the bed. So, getting out of bed was easier than normal,
but I still feel some tiredness from the three days of working my part-time
retail gig over the weekend. Yes, I’m 27 and possess a Master’s degree in the
arts, and I work a retail job on weekends to help subsidize my income from multiple
contract jobs. So, Monday rolls around and more often than not I’m leaning
towards a break rather than returning to work. Today is one of those days.
Monday morning routine: make coffee, a glass of orange
juice, take a vitamin, sit on the couch, open laptop, avoid emails for as long
as possible. Today I convinced myself to look at the weekend’s emails first
thing, but this is unusual. After deleting the junk, the first email I respond
to is an update from the co-director of a local reading series where I coordinate
free workshops. Then there’s a query from a poet who submitted to Arc Poetry Magazine. After giving the
poet an update on their submission, the next email is from the guest editor of
the next issue of Arc sending along
his editorial note. This is a special issue specifically for Canada’s “150th
Birthday” and all of the problems and concerns found in celebrating the “birth”
of a country that stole land from and colonized the indigenous people. It’s not
a light theme, and it won’t be a light issue, and the editorial note wasn’t
light either. But the problems that are discussed within this themed issue are
important. The writers are talented and their poems and essays have been
staying with me, occupying my mind. I’m grateful to have a hand in the publication
of this issue, and I’m also anxious to find time to write out my thoughts on
these topics and understand/wrestle/come to grips with them more.
The next email is a tease—from rob mclennan, who likes
checking in every once in a while—in the form of a casual query about what I’ve
been working on. Back in May I took a long vacation to visit multiple countries
in Europe. As poets do on vacation, I wrote poems in a notebook along the way.
I haven’t had much chance (since copying the poems from my notebook to a Word
doc) to go back over these poems, so I took this email as a prompt to make some
tweaks, and I respond to rob by sending four of the vacations poems, likely for
him to glance at and ignore. But I think there’s something in these poems. I
was trying to write poems that acknowledged and problematized my place and
privilege as a tourist on this vacation. Traveling and being in busy touristy
places can be somewhat overwhelming, which often made me wonder how much more
terrifying it would be as a visible minority or a queer-identifying or
differently-abled person. We’ll have to see what rob says about them.
After spending this moment on my creative writing, the
next task is to send an invoice to a contract employer for some work I finished
over the weekend. I don’t know if it’s like this for other poets, but whenever
I take some time for my creative work, my mind will wander from poetry to my other
work responsibilities. So, I draw up the invoice and email it to their empty
office on this statutory holiday, and now the urge to relax is prominent. It’s
8:45AM and since getting out of bed I have had one cup coffee, fed the cats,
put some dishes away, zipped around the internet, but I haven’t sat back to
recharge.
My partner wakes up after me. She comes out from the
bedroom and grabs herself a coffee and stares at her phone while I’m re-watching
Hayao Miyazaki’s Spirited Away. She
starts her own work, remotely completing a few tasks for her multiple jobs. After
the movie is over, I make another pot of coffee and put on some records. Over
the weekend I found a record of Glenn Gould playing Brahms. Then I’ll put on
Debussy. When I really need to focus on writing or reading or editing, I almost
always go back to classical music.
Today’s work requires responding to emails, drawing up
contracts, contacting contributors to the upcoming issue of Arc, and planning the order for this issue.
I should be starting the layout, but that will have to wait until tomorrow when
I will hopefully have more energy to focus. When you know you don’t have the mental
capacity to complete one task, you just have to keep trying at other tasks to
find something you can complete and feel like you’ve accomplished something.
The coffee helps, the classical music is calming, and luckily I am successful
today in finding other small tasks, so 5:11PM rolls in and I’m relatively
pleased with my productivity.
In the evening, we make dinner and put on a movie. We
eat watching The ‘Burbs and, with a
half-hour left in the film, she wants to switch gears and put on The Bachelor. I groan but agree for the
brownie points. I make brownies. The show is trashy and mindless, but we chirp
at the characters’ (contestants’?) stupid decisions, and, eventually tired of
the whole ordeal, I open my MacBook to start composing this summary of my
writing day.
I’ve sent emails in 18 different email threads, edited
four of my own poems, composed two publication contracts, drafted an order for
one issue of Arc Poetry Magazine. I
don’t know where this lands on someone else’s scale of productivity, but I’d
count it as moderately productive in my books. Tomorrow, though, there is
always more to be done.
Chris Johnson
currently works as the coordinating editor for Arc Poetry Magazine. Some of his poems have previously appeared in (parenthetical), Matrix, and the Hart House
Review. A chapbook of haibun, Listen,
Partisan!, was released by Frog Hollow Press in 2016.
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