Last night, I wrote a column for Public Address on opinion columnists. I'd been writing it in my head since those columns on the cycle deaths appeared, and after reading a blog of Deborah's about an Australian columnist. It seemed to me that here, and in Australia and the UK, there's been a growing trend for newspapers and their websites to run opinion columns which are completely irresponsible. It makes me really angry, I think papers should be just as responsible when a columnist lies as when a journalist does. So I wrote a humourous piece about it, because I'm me.
While I was talking about it to my partner, before I'd started writing, I did mention that it had occured to me that people might think I was talking about Metro, the magazine I'm an opinion columnist for. I think people who know me would be clear that I'm not, and my core audience would know the columns I was referring to, but the idea was still there. I did consider, briefly, not doing the column because of this perceived conflict, but frankly I thought it was too good to pass up.
This morning, after giving it a read-over, I posted it. That's fairly normal procedure for me. Then, as is also fairly normal, I did some yoga, had a shower, and put some laundry on.
About two hours after my posting the column, I had an email from my editor at Metro advising me that they wouldn't be continuing my column next year. Work I've already filed will appear in the December issue, but I needn't start writing for January tonight.
What I want to make very clear is that I was expecting this. Simon and I have never really been able to find a way to make my work work for Metro. Neither of us has been very comfortable with the fit. He's expressed doubts right from the start. I cannot believe that this morning's column influenced him in any way. I'm okay with the decision, except for the part where it means I have to go back to doing arsy content work to bring in dollars.
Likewise, the column was planned and executed well before my dismissal. It was not written in revenge, nor as a sort of pre-emptive getting in first strike. There is no arsitude involved on anyone's behalf.
There is a bunch of stuff in my life I am struggling to cope with - mostly my daughter and my mother - and the situation has deteriorated to the point where I'm now taking medication (though I still cannot physically bring myself to take a sleeping pill, it seems) but this, honest to blog, doesn't even feature.
So, y'know, I'm okay. Or at least, I'm no worse off than I was yesterday.