Below the Waste Part 2: Polymathematical Pitfalls

In Week 24 of 2025, can I turn my kryptonite into a superpower?

To see how Sam Pepys spent this week 364 years ago, follow this link.

The closest I could get ChatGPT to produce an image of me ‘hulking out’…

It was my great friend David Ault, the voice of many a renowned horror podcast, who first used the term ‘polymath’ to describe me, when I’d asked him for a reference. Since I’d only ever heard the term applied to the inimitable genius Stephen Fry, I shared my fear that David was speaking too highly of me.

He replied along the lines of, “Not at all! Being a polymath just means you have multiple interests, multiple skills, and can sometimes use your expertise in one area to help you in others. That absolutely describes you. It doesn’t mean you’re a genius, just that you’re capable of many things.”

I didn’t get the position I’d applied for, so the question of whether his reference helped or hindered has been posted into Schrödinger’s box. It’s possible they could have considered that there’s potentially a briefer definition of ‘polymath’:

Jack of all trades, master of none.

Having submitted my novel for a competition, I began this week determined to prove myself a productive writer. And I don’t think I did too badly. For starters, those of you who follow this newsletter in real-time will’ve seen two new posts for ‘The Blog of Samuel Pepys’ appear this week.

I also finished writing for a major Immersive project taking place in Norwich this month, edited my forthcoming article for BookTrust, met with a fabulous PhD student to plan an SEN edition of All the Better to Read You With, and attended my monthly writing group at Niche Books & Comics.

Wait, whoa! Rein that back a little. From my writing alone, you’ve seen my interests cross history, education, and short fiction. If writing was my job alone, polymathery would’ve been fine.

But these ol’ multiple skills and interests of mine extended beyond writing alone. Granted, some were still ‘work’ – school visits supporting the literacy of young learners. Others were technically ‘rent’ – providing a tour of Pepys House.

Yet others involved supporting those I care about, such as providing free storytelling for a local good cause, chatting with acting agents on behalf of Connie’s family to enthuse about her ineffable talent, and getting the last available ticket for my friends’ production of Jesus Christ Superstar despite it being my least favourite Lloyd Webber show. (Sorry, but the phrase “What’s the buzz, tell me what’s a-happening” repeating eight times straight is already on the verge of losing me. Repeating it a further 20 across the show, and using the same tune for other similarly short oft-repeated phrases? You ain’t ever getting me back…)

Anyhoo. So much for my commitment last year to ‘do less’. And the thing is, I wanted all of it. I wouldn’t cut any of it out of my life.

Well – except…

On Thursday morning, I attended a ‘pre-meeting’ for next Wednesday’s ‘multi-agency’ flood meeting. The agenda, I’d been told, was to discuss how that meeting would be recorded in the most effective way for transparency and encouragement of trust, since it had largely been failure to communicate which had heated temperatures to boiling point between Brampton residents and the publicly-funded bodies supposedly there to help.

Except it wasn’t. Instead, it was a meeting just to brief me that everyone else had already made up their minds – including, according to the councillor, the community flood group I’d arrived to represent. He’d claimed to have spoken with them separately, and they’d agreed to waive the request for an audio recording, on the understanding people would feel more comfortable being honest without it.

I get that some people get cagey around microphones. What I struggled to convince anyone else was that, if someone’s worried about being taken the wrong way by people who can’t attend the meeting, that worry is not going to be fixed by vetoing audio recording – especially when those who aren’t at the meeting are already prejudiced against them.

It was pointless making this argument, though, as I was suddenly alone with it. My intention had been to establish greater lines of communication between the authorities and our village, and to date I’d been successful in that. Without my open letter and my speech at the RFCC, some of the authorities attending Wednesday’s meeting wouldn’t be there. And given the flood group had clearly held a pre-pre-meeting with these agencies without me, my intention was clearly fulfilled.

So why was I so annoyed afterwards that I nearly turned Pippa Kitten bald by stroking her until I calmed down? Nothing to do with feeling I’d being ambushed.

No. My gripe? Another wasted morning, just like last week. I caught myself thinking, If I find myself putting energy and commitment into something for zero effect, that’s something I should drop.

That thought made me pause. Could… could ‘Hulk Chip’, the result of people wasting my time, be the hero I needed to cut down my commitments, leading to a more relaxed, satisfied existence…?

I worried about this for the remainder of the week. At what point could I drop a thing? Could I drop out of the multi-agency meeting next week, for example?

I wasn’t sure it’d be that easy. I remembered how disastrous the book launch for All the Better to Read You With had been, how that had felt like a waste of time. Yet if I’d’ve dropped that then, I wouldn’t be on the brink of seeing one of my articles on the BookTrust website.

It’s clearly less about whether there’s any impact at all, and more about the kind of impact possible.

But what kind of impact am I aiming for exactly?

This question was still playing on my mind when Mummy Rose and I went along to a cousin’s 40^th wedding anniversary at the end of the week. There, I had my first proper conversation with my cousin Pam’s husband Peter.

“What do you do then?” he asked.

“I’m a storyteller and children’s author.”

“How’s that then?”

I gave him an overview, to which people usually have one of two responses – either one expressing amazement that storytelling is actually a career choice, or the one that Peter had:

“And that pays you, does it?”

Peter himself had managed to retire early by selling the cucumber-growing business he’d inherited from his father. He freely admitted that he’d never much enjoyed his work, but the important thing was having the dinero to be comfortable.

“Do you make enough dinero to be comfortable, Chip?”

I hesitated – which of course he took to mean ‘No’. But really, I was wondering… Is comfort reliant on wealth? Is that how I need to measure my impact, by things that pay?

One heck of an Occam’s razor that would be to my task list. No more flood group. No more parish council. No more buying tickets to support friends in shows I didn’t think I’d like?

Ah, but there was a rub. I’d been completely wrong about Superstar – I ended up enjoying that show so much, I literally bruised my hand with my applause after. Couple that repeated phrase with joyous, energetic, and passionate choreography, and you never want it to end.

No. Avoiding something for a reason as obvious as ‘You won’t make any money’ or ‘You probably won’t like it’ would be like missing out on the perfect family photo just because a sign told you not to sit there.

What’s even more beautiful about that photo of so many of us sitting on the wall is that it was a member of the venue’s staff who took it. $;-)

Clearly my mission to cut down my activity and stressors is not over yet.

Again – watch this space…

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In return for me sharing these words with you, please pay just one word of yours. What one word describes your measure for whether an activity is worth sticking with or not?

Want to know why I’m asking for this? Flip back to this post here.

Let’s share tales again soon. In the meantime, ciao for niao…
$;-)