Leaning forward with a glass of bourbon and ice next to me, hair frazzled. A human drama plays itself out in the background, all loud voices and chaos, but I can’t pay attention because I’m under the spell of inspiration, and as those words hit the page each sparkles like a shiny gold coin. Each sentence is a hundred dollar bill constructed with the power of my words. The keyboard is on fire with the rush of my work. It’s invigorating.
Nah. The above scene is bullshit. Writing for pay is not always interesting. In fact, sometimes it’s downright boring.
Hell, it usually is.
I can still remember a time when that thought would have seemed preposterous. Get paid to write? Like, money and stuff? For writing? Hell, I’d have written the phone book just to have a crack at that.
But the truth is, writing is a job like any other. It’s work. And yes, often it’s hard work. When I do side work it’s a supplement to my day job as a Newspapering Man Doing Newspapering Stuff. Brief freelance gigs here and there. Writing up PR material and the like. Product reviews. Whatever might put a little spending cash in my pocket.
To say such work is unexciting would be an understatement. It’s an exciting as stocking shelves.
Yet I shouldn’t complain. There are scores of people who’d cut off a finger for a chance to write photo captions for $3 each. Not that I’ve ever written photo captions for $3 each, but you get my point. Getting paid for a set of skills you’ve worked hard to develop is gratifying, even if the work itself isn’t. It means that in some small way — and rest assured, it is in a small way — I’ve been able to accomplish a goal I’ve had since my youth. If people want to pay me to clack on the keyboard, I won’t argue with ’em.
I just wish I got to write about nekkid ladies and beer and stuff. That would be cool.
