Coping with Monday
I mean, yes. We all hate Mondays. Usually they’re the beginning of our working week, when we stumble into the office, propped up with bad or overpriced coffee and a rushed healthfood breakfast, and pretend to work for eight hours or so. (We never really work on Mondays.)
You're a case in point; here you are, sat on the Internet, goofing off when – let’s face it – you have much better things to do. Even within the realm of work avoidance, you could be doing it in a more creative, constructive way; writing your novel, for instance. If you're not that way inclined, you could be reading any one of millions of great works by authors spanning the centuries - or indeed, if you’re one of our teenybopper readers, R.L. Stine.
Let’s take the case of Mr. Stine for a moment. He writes one of his fiendishly clever and exceptionally well written (no coughing at the back, Owen) teen horror novels every single week – and although they’re never exactly heavyweights, you’d be wrong to assume that it’s an easy job. The man must be a workaholic; people like him are potentially very depressing to work-shy folks like me. Particularly on a Monday.
Unless – get this – perhaps he has some kind of real job. Maybe R.L. Stine is an accountant, or a programmer, or an anthropologist, and his way of goofing off is to write a moderately bloody teen horror novel every week while his boss isn’t looking.
“Stine!” shouts his supervisor from within his oak-lined office. “Is the Berkeley report ready yet?”
“I’m just putting the finishing touches on it now, sir,” our friend R.L. calls from his cubicle, as he brings about a cheerleader’s swift and bloody end. “The forecasts need to be manipulated a little to fit into the bell curve.” And so continues the story of the screaming skull in Brad’s locker.
He’s sold millions of books over the years, keeping prepubescents and spotty adolescents alike hooked on his dynamite prose, all while pretending to do real work. I bet Monday is his most productive day.
You’re probably sat at your desk, wondering how you’re possibly going to get through the day, dreaming about coffee and bagels and bed. And yeah, you’re not going to get any work done today. But turn it to your advantage – write a best-selling novel, direct a cult movie, cut a platinum album. And suddenly, miraculously, Mondays won’t seem so bad.
Benjamin hopes one day to take his own advice.