By Norm Richards
I woke this morning with all kinds of thoughts. But most of those thoughts are questions where nobody has the answer. Even, those who have answers have already answered. I'm not satisfied. It just places us at a time of helplessness. It's not at all easy to be told you must do this and you must do that and if you don't, you could die. How could we be cornered like this so fast? How unprepared we were. How unprepared I am as I sit in my room alone with seemingly no options. What I was concerned about in the fall of 2019, is now irrelevant. But during that time, it was so very important to me.
I worked on a proposal for my next book. I researched the arts funding bodies for deadline dates so I would meet those dates and make applications on time. I met those dates and worked hard to be sure I said and did things right. Now, if the world was turning in a normal fashion and I crossed all my t's and dotted my i's right, said the right things and made it interesting enough for others, then I could expect a positive response back and I'd get funding. Well, it didn't turn out that way. My first deadline came and went. I was turned down. Given reasons but they fell short for me.
There wasn't even a pandemic or any threat of any kind at the time. All there was, was a quasi government office charged with the task of administering arts funds I'd applied for. They do not decide who gets support and who doesn't. It's decided by peer assessors in the various disciplines. Okay fine, seems simple enough. But for a couple of things. One, you don't ever get to know who assessed you. You don't really know what was on their mind that day when they looked at your proposal. You're unable to know if they are truly an artist themselves. What criteria or guideline do they follow when they look at your work? I know, what is happening today during a pandemic or other urgent events would be a factor in making decisions about who gets funding support and just how relevant it would be at this time.
Pandemic or no pandemic, I hope my applications is weighed and measured in a fair manner every time. In some ways I think it must be a thankless job being an administrator for an arts funding body, a hero to some and a dirt bag to others. It's feast or famine now too. They used to give partial funding and now they don't. You either get what you asked for or you get nothing. I wasn't told that before I applied. The budget you put in now becomes even more important. Another worry here. If you ask for too much, you're sunk, if you ask for too little you suffer later. You end up working short of money, forced to compromise as well. So why be a writer? I ask myself. Is it worth it? Well, if I have a story line I want to follow and I'm sincere about it and truthful to others, then I should keep writing. I could give you a whole bunch of other reasons why I write but I won't bother you with those details right now. Suffice to say, I love writing and the personal satisfaction of producing a publishable document is sacrosanct.
Now, I still have applications in at the arts funding bodies so I'm still hopeful, But the plans I made eight months ago and what I said in my proposals or how I said it, may not have enough urgency written into it now. We'll see. I can't recall it and bump up the volume. Let's hope that after this pandemic is over, my story material will serve a readership. May there be new reasons to publish what I write.
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