This time, I'm flying into Oakland for a job in Berkeley and then to see another possible job across the bay. All very tightly scheduled, so I'm sure to have lots of fun trying to keep to it. I don't like doing it this way, but not my choice. Next week's job will be easier since I'm driving to it and have a lot more flexibility in the timing.
I got more done on Place of Safety's outline. What's fun about having one set out is, when you have an idea you can hang in the right spot. I had a fun one regarding the end of Brendan's time in Derry, before he's shipped off to Houston...one that makes him feel responsible for everything. It helps his reaction to a bombing make a lot more sense.
I'll try and get more done on the trip, but a job we're bidding on, that I thought I had all but worked out on Friday, changed parameters completely. So I'm digging through that to prepare a better quote. What makes it irritating is, I got bitched at for letting a subcontractor know about the change and ask him to adjust, accordingly, so we could get his estimate in a timely fashion. They basically said, "We don't know what it is, yet, or who's paying or what's going where," when I'd already noted half their concerns on the initial XLS costing sheet, so they told him to ignore my emails and told me to handle the client and get the final info from them. As I'm traveling.
I'm getting tired of screwing up all the time. Tired of making a mess of what I do. Whether I actually do or don't is immaterial. I think I'm working things right and it turns out I'm doing it all wrong...consistently. And now the world is full of people who love to not only point our your mistakes but condescend towards you while doing so...something I've noticed I can do, as well, when I know I'm right about something. I don't like that, in me or in others...but it seems I'm only able to try and stop it in myself, no one else.
I used to think I took criticism pretty well...but I guess I don't. Not really. I mean, when it's ludicrous I can blow it off...but the quiet kind gets under my skin and makes me feel even more the failure. That may be half the reason for my extreme need to rework my stories. I'm hardly a great writer; I have to rework my books over and over to make them even begin to make sense, and even then people read the first few pages and shrug the rest of it off...and...
Okay...time to back away...I'm shifting into whine-mode and that is not acceptable.
I got more done on Place of Safety's outline. What's fun about having one set out is, when you have an idea you can hang in the right spot. I had a fun one regarding the end of Brendan's time in Derry, before he's shipped off to Houston...one that makes him feel responsible for everything. It helps his reaction to a bombing make a lot more sense.
I'll try and get more done on the trip, but a job we're bidding on, that I thought I had all but worked out on Friday, changed parameters completely. So I'm digging through that to prepare a better quote. What makes it irritating is, I got bitched at for letting a subcontractor know about the change and ask him to adjust, accordingly, so we could get his estimate in a timely fashion. They basically said, "We don't know what it is, yet, or who's paying or what's going where," when I'd already noted half their concerns on the initial XLS costing sheet, so they told him to ignore my emails and told me to handle the client and get the final info from them. As I'm traveling.
I'm getting tired of screwing up all the time. Tired of making a mess of what I do. Whether I actually do or don't is immaterial. I think I'm working things right and it turns out I'm doing it all wrong...consistently. And now the world is full of people who love to not only point our your mistakes but condescend towards you while doing so...something I've noticed I can do, as well, when I know I'm right about something. I don't like that, in me or in others...but it seems I'm only able to try and stop it in myself, no one else.
I used to think I took criticism pretty well...but I guess I don't. Not really. I mean, when it's ludicrous I can blow it off...but the quiet kind gets under my skin and makes me feel even more the failure. That may be half the reason for my extreme need to rework my stories. I'm hardly a great writer; I have to rework my books over and over to make them even begin to make sense, and even then people read the first few pages and shrug the rest of it off...and...
Okay...time to back away...I'm shifting into whine-mode and that is not acceptable.
No comments:
Post a Comment