Turn up to the two-part interview and the guy interviewing me for Part Two was a workmate at a previous job.
In itself, there's nothing there to throw me. He was a cool guy; we got on well; I did well at the previous job and got promoted. But man, it threw me. I stuttered and stumbled my way through the rest of the interview.
I'm not getting that job now, which is really disappointing. (At least, I wouldn't hire me from that interview.) It's just such a shame, as I do think I'd have excelled at it.
Went home in high dudgeon, scraped my wheels along the gutter as I was passing a car in a narrow gap, came home in a foul mood.
Was feeling really depressed about the interview, so just started reading various blogs — I read a lot of (published) novelists' and literary agents' blogs to try and learn the business for once I'm at that stage.
Started reading, and it's really interesting. You forget your own problems; you're immersed in writing questions and problems.
Something in one blog clicked with me, and I quickly opened my current work and started rewriting a section, tightening the writing, getting it perfect. Then I realised: I'm not depressed any more.
Writing, researching, rewriting, editing: it makes me happy. I'm sick, just for the moment, of looking for a job. If I had a job it'd be fine. And I'm not suffering without a job, although my savings will soon start to.
But it makes me wish, for the moment, that I didn't need to look for a job. It's humiliating sometimes to be unemployed, and that's the part I don't like. I don't mind not getting a job that I've done my best for; if someone better turns up, fair enough. But I hate screwing up an interview; I hate ME being the reason I don't get a job I'm well qualified for.
If I could just write....