The Tales of Timmy the Turtle

Or how a grumpy plushie came to represent so much more

‘Sorry, was I loud, in my house, that I bought with the money I made from my songs.’

This is the phrase I wish I’d said last week except about a cuddly turtle.

This is Timmy. The Turtle. He’s the Jellycat turtle that I have wanted forever. Last Friday morning, he arrived. Not on some drunken Jellycat buying whim (though if you do that I applaud you) but instead bought with the money I earned from library loans of my books.

Tell me why then that same afternoon, a grown ass adult was rolling their eyes at me and saying ‘Ugh I bet you spent £40 on that.’

Why yes, yes I did. But that £40 came from books I wrote being taken out of libraries.

‘Sorry, was I loud, about the Timmy Turtle I bought, with the money I made, from writing books?’

How many books have you written, eye-roll person?

And if even if not. If I want to use my adult money to buy a toy turtle, why shouldn’t I? Firstly on a Friday night, grown adults are spending far more adult money in the pub, or on takeaways. Or I could be spending it on drugs. Surely toy turtles are better than drugs?

But I digress. The point actually is that I bought that turtle in all his grumpy glory in quiet celebration of something I’d achieved and someone tried to poo-poo it. So my face was not unlike Timmy’s at that moment.

But also because of that, I’m about to not so quietly celebrate Timmy and all he stands for.

Timmy might not have cost much in the scheme of things, but actually this grumpy turtle stands for a lot more (actually he doesn’t stand for anyone’s nonsense). He was the result of over 100 people taking my book out of libraries, and I get a little bit of money from that. He was the result of hours, weeks, months, and years of writing those books. The time, energy, and love poured into them. The skilled work behind them and the weeks and years of work.

I also don’t tend to celebrate my wins that much. Rather, I have incredibly high standards for myself and my work, and every book along the way has been met with a case of ‘and what next.’ I keep pushing onto the next and the next because that’s what you do, right?

I also have rarely ‘rewarded’ myself for those books. I’ve barely spent a penny of the (small) amounts I’ve made for them. I bought myself a (small, inexpensive) piece of jewellery for each publication. Something to mark the progress for me. And while yes I promote the boosk I don’t ‘celebrate’t that loudly, I move onto the next and keep going.

In fact, I find it really difficult to celebrate, especially in any frivolous monetary way. As an accidental freelancer right now, and as someone who hasn’t exactly followed a lucrative career path, I’m not out there throwing my royalties around the place. Not least, they wouldn’t throw that far anyway. So no I’m not out there balling my cash like Richard Oseman. Jokes, he seems an entirely sensible human and has probably reinvested his royalties in quiz shows. But really, I don’t treat myself that often.

I debated buying Timmy.

It’s silly really. I know in the scheme of things my £40 Turtle isn’t a huge amount of money to spend. BUT it is a large amount of money to spend on something you don’t need (Turtles? in this economy?)

But ultimately, that money was ‘free’ earnings- I didn’t do any more work for it than I’d already done, and Timmy was a way to celebrate that. And he brings me joy, he’s living on my desk with his buddy Pucky (who I didn’t buy as a 40th Birthday present). I really love my grumpy friend.

There’s another story to Timmy. I like him in part because he shares a name with one of my favourite characters I’ve created in an (as yet) unpublished work. Those of you who know Sad Penguin, he’s also called Tim and that’s how he got his name. For a long time I told myself ‘if you ever publish that work you can buy Timmy,’ but actually this year I’ve started thinking more in the ‘if not now when?’ mentality. Everything in the chosen path I’ve gone on is the ‘long game’ in many ways, and it can feel like a lot of waiting sometimes. I didn’t want to wait to celebrate what I’ve already done by not buying Timmy and spending a lot of time regretting it. So he’s also a turtle of embracing the now, and what you’ve already achieved, rather than waiting for a mythical place in the future when you’ve achieved enough.

Wow Timmy I didn’t know you were so deep.

But actually yes, having the grumpy turtle as a reminder ‘hey you’ve done some stuff’ (I feel like he’d quite sternly say it) is important.

Because when that person said ‘Ugh you’ve spent £40 on a soft toy’ followed by ‘I’ve got adult bills to pay’ (me, blinking in 40 year old wondering where my adult bills went just because I bought a turtle…) is actually even more indicative of people not taking people like me- be they freelancers, creatives or a combination of the two seriously.

There’s an idea that not only if I choose to use some of my adult money, not on bills, but on something silly, I must be a very unserious person. I am a very unserious person but not in that respect. In actual fact, I probably juggle more than someone in a 9-5 job. Actually, no, probably about it, I do. I juggle working with everyone from playwrights to lawyers (both equally dramatic granted) in a given week. This week alone, I was working with a Housing Association in the morning, talking to my agent in the afternoon, and teaching in the evening. Don’t tell me I don’t have grown up responsibilities just because my job doesn’t have a singular title, or even singular purpose. I also fight for every scrap of work, I don’t get a paycheck just handed to me at the end of the month, just for turning up like some people in their 9-5. Oh and I certainly don’t work ‘9-5’ either.

Yes, I am now as grumpy as Timmy himself.

But there’s this idea that even if I’d say what Taylor said to this person, even if I’d said ‘I’m sorry did I buy a turtle, with the money I made from my books?’ they’d say ‘well that’s not a real job is it’

No, actually it’s about ten jobs in one.

It’s a writer, a researcher, a project manager, a creative consultant, it’s an admin job bigger than any admin job I’ve had, it’s also a full-time marketing job…all while I have several other jobs alongside it. But also it’s a skill, a set of skills. And no, I might not be Richard Oseman (who, by the way, got where he got by being an incredibly powerful TV producer, presenter, and writer- no shade, Richard, love your work). I’m nobody, sure. But people have read my work and enjoyed it, and it’s a small but not insignificant thing that I’ve made.

And I admit a satisfying element of smugness when people google me after doing that and say ‘oh right, you weren’t lying.’ and ‘oh you’ve done a lot actually’

Timmy Likes to Read

And you know what? yes I have. I’ve worked bloody hard to get here. First to get a PhD which was the launchpad of all this—then hustling my way into various things (including a National Theatre rehearsal room) to get to the next stage. And over four years since 2021 when my first book came out I’ve had five books published, with two more on the way (and more to come, if I get my arse in gear and actually finish a new proposal). I’ve done all that while supporting myself, making a living- even after losing my job during Covid (solidarity my fellow arts casualties) in a way that completely derailed my career. I’ve kept going through another busy, difficult job, and now nearly a year of accidental freelancing.

To quote my favourite book oriented film, You’ve Got Mail, ‘I lead a small life, well valuable but small.’

I might not be famous enough to not be doubted when I say this is what I do. I might not make a fortune doing it. It might be bloody hard, but I do it anyway. I keep going anyway.

But the idea that I don’t have ‘grown up’ responsibilities stuck with me. I chose a path that’s difficult, but no less ‘grown up’ I’d add that I do all this without a partner (and a partners income) I do it without family safety net. Currently without even the security of a full-time job, I’m no less an ‘grown up’ because of my career choice, I in fact make a lot of sacrifices in terms of ‘grown up’ life, no fancy cars, or home, a small life if you will. But do not underestimate me, do not say that I don’t have a ‘grown up’ life because I bought a Turtle.

(Now I’m hearing ‘do not come to my town’ which is also apt, do not come to my town, do not disrespect my turtle)

It’s because I worked bloody hard in my grown-up life that I bought a Timmy Turtle. It’s because I put in a lot of grown up hours when I could have been having fun. It’s because I sacrificed a lot, in time, money and let’s face it, sanity, that I bought a Timmy Turtle.

So I’m proud of what Timmy symbolises.

And hopefully his grumpy face sternly tells me to get on with those next books.

For now though we’re off for a cup of tea.