Freelance Hell
Looking back on the past couple of miserable weeks, I’m reminded of one of those cheesy black-and-white films of the 1950s where the calendar pages are blowing off into the wind and the clock hands rapidly spin. On my personal film, this visual rendition of the passage of time would be accompanied by my framed faced in various expressions of agony, rage, and despair . . . perhaps a laptop computer smashing against a wall or me throwing back a glass of wine with my eyes darting madly to and fro, as in that old “Reefer Madness” movie.
Is it rabies? you may ask, if you’ve had the patience to read this far. Is it some sort of inherited mental disease? The answers are no and yes respectively, because I surely must have some sort of mental disease to have chosen the writing profession to try and make a “living.” It’s much more akin to “a dying.” Before becoming an unwilling participant in the world of freelancing, I could at least project my measly pay stub as a fulltime employee of people who viewed me as an adjunct who did what they would do if they had the time; but now even that semblance of stability is gone as I walk wearily into old age—and my time is flyin’ by like those damn calendar pages. I’m over half a hundred years old damnit! Shouldn’t I be sitting on the veranda talkin’ to the youngins about life, blitzed outta my mind in a good way?
Changing deadlines, competing deadlines, people who haven’t called you in months, but who now need a fast turnaround; it’s always feast or famine, but the feast is a small one and the famine a long one. Knowing this you try to say yes to everyone so that you can save up like the fabled industrious ant, but inevitably you land up as the grasshopper anyway.
Everyone thinks you must be doing this for fun, because who wouldn’t want to write one’s heart out and wait interminably to be paid a paltry sum? Then my computer shuts down amidst a complicated transaction and an errant e-mail sends without my permission and the adrenaline flows; my Irish face flushes a frightening red and as I throw cold water on my face I beg Jesus not to kill me now! Not now, when I’m having so much fun and when so much more enjoyment awaits!
So I survived another bout of multiple deadlines and finally received a check big enough to be consumed by one bill. Then my rich brother-in-law calls and says, “I just booked a Caribbean cruise for me and your sister next February and I was wondering who might take the boys to school and take care of the dogs. Then I thought, what about Aunt Gail? What do you think?”
I can’t even tell you what I think.
posted by Gail @ 9:16 PM
5 Comments
5 Comments:
In times like this, when things are bad, money is short, and the problems just keep multiplying until you think you are going to go insane just remember this...no matter how bad things seem or how sparse your opportunities...things will never get any better.
I find consolation in this reality, because I think if a bit of real luck came my way and I started to make money instead of lose it...I would probably have a heart attack from the shock.
I expect to remain healthy for the foreseeable future.
I would personally like to offer to beat your brother-in-law with a blunt object. What a tool.
Sorry things are sucking right now. I'm with you on the writing/lack of money thing. Left a nice paycheck in Illinois when I moved to Phoenix. Now I'll be adjuncting at a community college (I couldn't stand the idea of ASU so didn't even apply) for approximately enough money to pay for, say, one credit card bill per month. The good news is I won't have any benefits! Tra la!
Candy,
Read some of Gail's old blogs. They are as entertaining as yours. Both of you need to write books. I have been picking at Gail for 2 years to get her motivated to write a "The Grass Grows Greener Over the Septic Tank" type book. You could easily do the same.
I am humbled by the talent I see in women's blogs, yet they do not seem to have the arrogance that is so crippling to males. The effrontery to assume that their commentary and observations are of interest to the rest of the world.
In your case and in Gails', I thing it is true. Everyone would be interested in your adventures.
Well, I tired of gushing over you two ladies, so I will leave it to your personal interests to guide you toward your destinies.
Jerry...
I've never been good at self-promotion. It's too uncomfortable to admit I might have something worthwhile to promote. And that is more prevalent with women than men too, I think.
These days, having just started writing with any regularity about a year ago, I'm focusing on the writing itself, on making it a habit, and hope to try to find outlets for it at some point. I'm still finding my "voice" for lack of a less cliched term.
As Gail's last post shows, it's extremely hard to make money doing it. I have a friend back in Illinois who is the absolute queen of self promotion. Good writer, constantly sending stuff out, and can't make enough bucks to make a dent.
I'm sure you, Gail, know the system way better than I do. I'm anxious to read your older posts to learn more about your history with it.
If nothing else, connecting with both of you in your blogs is a very cool thing. I'm just stunned at both your work. Now who's gushing?
Thanks Jerry and Candy for your supportive comments. I'm already feeling guilty about talking about B-in-L, so I may delete the post later. Not that anyone in my family has ever showed any interest in reading it:) I don't think he meant harm, but that idea that I don't work seems to be pervasive! I agree with Candy that it's really difficult to promote oneself and Jerry you know that as well. Maybe we should all become one another's agents. I'm much better at promoting others! Or maybe we could all actually find one agent who was willing to take us on at a group rate.
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