Editor Christopher Writes – A Poem A Day: 11/01/15

I have been preparing for a job interview so my brain has sort of turned to mush. Let’s just get straight to the poetry.

Why is it when you apply for a job you have to send them your details about 7 times? When I originally applied for this job, I spent an hour filling in an application form, going through employment and education history, all my personal details, my ethnicity, nationality, inside-leg measurement. Then I received a call informing me I had a telephone interview and could I email my CV over, which of course I did. I passed the telephone interview and tomorrow I have a face-to-face interview, for which I have had to fill out a hard-copy application form and take my CV with me.

Now, I have done my fair share of recruitment myself for a couple of jobs and I know sometimes, when you are inundated with applications, it can be a little tricky to keep track of everything. That’s why you implement systems to keep track of things. Lists and piles to organise what you have and manage the influx. I do this when we receive submissions for the magazine.

I have a spreadsheet where I list the name, title and type of piece submitted. Then I organise and rename the actual file of the submissions with specific labelling depending on the medium. Once we hit the editorial phase, I have another spreadsheet of submissions where I can track which pieces have been edited, accepted and the person contacted.

I then begin writing on the mirror with a chalk pen, with a list of all the little fiddly bits that need to be done. It does sometimes feel I spend more time organising the stuff than actually doing anything but this is what needs to be done. Keri think’s I have a little touch of O.C.D. Well, is it O.C.D to organise the rubber ducks on the bathroom window-sill according to size? Is it compulsive to arrange our DVD’s in genre then alphabetical order? I thought not!

Anyway, I understand that it is sometimes necessary to ask for copies of things just in case. I’m not criticising them in any way. This is actually a job that could be very good for me. I just get sick of writing and reading my own name over and over.

I’m not even sure if any of this has made sense today. As I said, my brain has turned into a sort of gloop, reading my own personal history over and over. This is your underwhelmingly mediocre life so far. Apart from the fun stuff like the spoken word events and Bunbury, but some jobs don’t want to know if you’re a writer in your spare time. They look at you like you’ve just walked into the interview wearing birkenstocks, playing the skiffle-board with a tattoo of a fig leaf on your face.

Ok, here is the poem now. I promise.

Jotting down your ideas for the

enjoyment of others is apparently, in our

society, a crime. There is a dark

undercurrent from which no-one

is seemingly immune. When we

share our thoughts, opinions,

child-like imaginings with others, we are not saying we

hold these things to be true. We

are simply trying to entertain. We

realise it could be risqué but we are not

laissez-faire. We do not mean to offend.

It is simply freedom of speech.

Everyone must stand united against those who seek to crush this spirit.

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