ATO: IOU
So the first rule of being a freelance writer is: Never talk about Fight Club.
And the second rule: Never. Talk. About. Fight. Club.
The third is to blatantly rip off other literary devices when you can't think up a decent opener yourself; and the fourth (which some would argue is actually the first because it's the only genuine one I'm presenting): put money away each time you're paid for your annual tax assessment.
In the heady and oft-erroneously assumed exciting world of freelance business dealings, you invoice for your time and effort, and the company chucks you your dues, which you have declare at the end of the year and then pay income tax on. So in 'writer school' (erm, a vocational course at TAFE) they taught us to squirrel away a little bit of each pay packet.
As I am wont to do, the moment I received this advice I disregarded it - much like when I was taught spelling and grammar and stuff and but.
So when the new tax year rang in on June 30, to the deafening sound of accountants' parties across the country (the streamers can be claimed as a charity donations don't you know), I loathed to think of the wallop that I had forthcoming which I was way under-prepared for. So I started to put some cash away... about two weeks ago. Oops.
Anyways, long boring blog entry short, went to my tax agent tonight, and we did the merry little dance with its secret language that you have to do with a legally-bound official (Them: "You know, you can claim up to $50 without a receipt"; Me: "Oh funny coincidence! I spent $50," that sorta thing).
Thanks to the over-taxation my current job, which pays me far too much for what I'm worth, I'm actually getting a return. Bugger me. Awesome news, considering that my now non-existent tax assessment is where I'd allocated most my funds for the rest of the year.
Then it dawned on me - I'd been putting away money in anticipation. But now I don't need it for said event. Ergo... I've been saving.
*cue Psycho music*
Makes my skin crawl just thinking about the financial security I seem to have unwittingly planned for myself. It's just not right.
And the second rule: Never. Talk. About. Fight. Club.
The third is to blatantly rip off other literary devices when you can't think up a decent opener yourself; and the fourth (which some would argue is actually the first because it's the only genuine one I'm presenting): put money away each time you're paid for your annual tax assessment.
In the heady and oft-erroneously assumed exciting world of freelance business dealings, you invoice for your time and effort, and the company chucks you your dues, which you have declare at the end of the year and then pay income tax on. So in 'writer school' (erm, a vocational course at TAFE) they taught us to squirrel away a little bit of each pay packet.
As I am wont to do, the moment I received this advice I disregarded it - much like when I was taught spelling and grammar and stuff and but.
So when the new tax year rang in on June 30, to the deafening sound of accountants' parties across the country (the streamers can be claimed as a charity donations don't you know), I loathed to think of the wallop that I had forthcoming which I was way under-prepared for. So I started to put some cash away... about two weeks ago. Oops.
Anyways, long boring blog entry short, went to my tax agent tonight, and we did the merry little dance with its secret language that you have to do with a legally-bound official (Them: "You know, you can claim up to $50 without a receipt"; Me: "Oh funny coincidence! I spent $50," that sorta thing).
Thanks to the over-taxation my current job, which pays me far too much for what I'm worth, I'm actually getting a return. Bugger me. Awesome news, considering that my now non-existent tax assessment is where I'd allocated most my funds for the rest of the year.
Then it dawned on me - I'd been putting away money in anticipation. But now I don't need it for said event. Ergo... I've been saving.
*cue Psycho music*
Makes my skin crawl just thinking about the financial security I seem to have unwittingly planned for myself. It's just not right.
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