It's the morning after agreeing to work my bony butt off for the next three weeks. Annnnnnnd I'm terrified. This is typical of my "process" – the great build up to scoring a fabulous project, the celebration of getting it and now, the abject horror of actually having to follow through.
This is the part where I wonder why the hell I put myself out there in the first place and couldn't have been happy to sit around reading novels and watching my bank balance retreat faster than Bill Zane's hairline.
Why do I always dooooooo this? I ask myself, in a really whiny inner-head voice. Why do I always say yesssssss? [See Freak Show for further details.]
Sometimes I go to Boyfriend, pouting like a three-year-old, and he tells me something like: You do this because you love it and you might be scared right now, but that will fuel you.
Then I say something like: But I don't wannnnnaaaaaa! And then he sends me up to the bath (a.k.a. hydro-psycho-therapy). And later I think how lucky I am to have my very own personal computer programmer psychiatrist nanny.
But today, I did something different. I looked at my newly revised JOY Plan list for January and worked on a delicious portfolio of writing samples for the Haiti/India/Zambia photo documentary project.
In other words, oops, I'm about to do it again.
Pitching a new creative project has become like dating used to be. The thrill! The anticipation! Do they like me? Could they love me? You tell me the difference between a project proposal and the first three dates. Go on. Try.
The only trouble with the proposal (and proposals of any kind, I might add) is that afterwards? You gotta freaking commit.
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