Looking for the buzz

A long, long time ago, when I worked for a small start-up in London, I came into work one Monday morning and read a strange email.

(Most emails received while working for start-ups are alarmingly prosaic, concerned with sour milk in the fridge, smoking bans, and ever-so-occasionally everyone-clear-your-desk-you're-fired. I suppose variety is nice.)

Sort Your Life Out

Tonight was all-star night at the TakeOut Comedy club, and I got to do ten minutes in the middle of the show. It was a good sized crowd, although not always too forthcoming; in a way that's good, as it makes you work harder to earn your laughs.

I've improved my joke about going to the gym: the last segment just didn't make sense, and now it's fixed. It's strange that I find it rewarding to revise my comic material, yet really struggle to go back over my Great Hong Kong Horror Novel and tighten it up for publishing.

Maybe I need some sort of motivational coach. Or just a tape recording of an angry man shouting "Sort Your Life Out!" that I could listen to when I start slacking off. Well, perhaps an angry woman. A lady, with a posh Edinburgh accent. Threatening, but not scary. Just enough to get me worried.