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February 19, 2007
This dreadful life: I was in Kinko's the other day, picking up a 24 by 36 inch blow up of the Blood & Volume cover that we'll be using for the book release party, the documentary and other appearances. The guy ringing me out, if I had to guess, was in his mid-fifties and took an immediate interest in the artwork and the book.
He asked a series of increasingly "in the know" questions. Was I self-published or did I have a publisher? Which house? How long did it take me to write the book?
"You're talking to a writer, you know," he said after his inquisition.
A writer who was still chasing the dream, and still making slightly more than minimum wage. Still wearing a uniform to work.
"So are you working on anything at the moment?" I asked after he told me about a book that was "pure pulp" that he and a team of writers had written in 11 days in the 1970's.
"I have a couple of projects I'm working on." But it wasn't too convincing and it had the tone I'm a little too familiar with -- the tone of someone who has some good ideas but between work and family and other commitments, no time to get those ideas off the ground.
In a day in age when companies can outsource contract writing jobs for the price of 10 or 20 words per penny and when even the top glossy magazines are still paying the same per-word rate they paid 40 years ago, writing doesn't always seem like an occupation. It's a lottery. For every Grisham and King there are tens of thousands of writers -- some talented, some not -- working menial jobs and wracking up debt while waiting for a break that may never come.
If I'm going to get a break, it's going to happen this year. Beyond the release of Blood & Volume, there's a chance I could sell the film option to the book. There's a chance the documentary focusing on me and the book will be a huge indie success. In April, RCF and I head to L.A. to pitch "Camp" to anyone who will listen, and our prospects seem better than average.
There's a good chance all of these things will click and regular readers of this space will be able to say "I knew him when..." But at the same time there's a chance none of it will come together and I'll still be here a year from now telling you all about the next book (which is quite funny), the next film project (which is unique) or some other project which hasn't even been hatched yet.
It's an ugly, nerve-wracking way to make a living and there are days when the old me -- the me that was angry, bitterly begging for a heart attack and hopped up on too much coffee but shrouded in the security of a 9-to-5 job -- doesn't seem all that bad. When people ask me "How did you get into writing?" or "Why did you choose journalism as a career?" I tell them "It's the only thing I know how to do."
And they laugh because they think I'm joking.
The point of all this? I don't know. Attribute it to too much cold and flu medicine and too much time to do nothing but think about my career as daytime television commercials for the ITT Technical Institute play in between grim-faced Sokolove ads.
Or maybe just wish me luck. The next six months pretty much determine whether I win the lottery or become some hack who needs to decide whether its time to grow up and get a real job or start working at Kinko's as I devise a new plan to take one last shot at the title.Labels: bloodandvolume, life, work, writing
Posted at 2:11 PM
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February 5, 2007
Will work for (insert valuable compensation here): Last week I casually mentioned in a post that I had been to New York for "a job interview -- more on that later." I guess later should have come sooner as it was confusing enough to lead some people to wonder if I'm moving away from Boston again (I'm not).
But I am looking for full-time employment, at least until I become rich and famous off of some of the other projects I mention far too often on this site (and in last week's post). My real job for the next few months is all book promotion all the time (with some teaching and writing thrown in), but when that dies down I'd like something a bit less nerve-wracking than freelancing (and I hope it's the job I interviewed for last week -- I'd be a Boston-based correspondent for a trade; I'd have company-paid health insurance and benefits but my pay structure would be like that of a freelancer, meaning my earnings would be dictated by my productivity. And to make the transition back into the 9-to-5 world smoother I'd get to work from home).
Freelancing was a temporary fix to get through grad school and writing my first book. But after more than two years of doing it my ultimate analysis is that freelance writing sucks. Don't get me wrong -- it's been a great learning experience and it definitely taught me a lot about managing my own time and staying productive, but I'm ready for a job where I can focus on the job and not all the administrative crap that comes along with running a freelance business.
Pay rates for freelancers have taken a huge hit in the two and a half years I've been doing it, and I've also noticed that a lot of people are moving the bigger contract writing and editing jobs in house. Meanwhile, companies that are still contracting work out are finding it's a buyer's market, with thousands of alleged writers willing to write for pennies per hour (I was recently asked if I wanted to bid on a job where I'd write 200 articles of 400 words a piece. The "winning" bidder agreed to a rate of $1 per article).
With rates like that, it starts to get a bit frustrating as you try to figure out how you'll cover your overhead: health insurance alone costs $4,000 a year. A byline in a major glossy is a great pay day and lot of fun, but they are few and far between for all but the best freelancers. I'm certain I could get as many of those as I have been -- if not more -- if I were working full time.
Beyond that, every day is a job hunt, and once you've hunted down the job you have to hunt down your payment. Freelancers are known for being the last to get paid; it's not like we're the electric company, who can turn off the lights when someone refuses or stalls in paying us. By the time it's time to pay us, they have what they need from us and companies and clients take advantage of that. In the time I have been doing this I have been stiffed for more than $6,000 -- small- and medium-sized payments that weren't worth pursuing in court or through collections agencies (it's not cost-effective to try to track down $1,500 you're owed by a client in Australia). Even when they do pay, it's rarely when they say it will be.
So why the long post on my frustration? Two reasons. First, I get asked all the time if it's worth doing it, living the dream that a lot of writers strive for. And for me, the answer has been "not really." Freelancing is right for some people but it's no longer right for me. If I were married and on someone else's health insurance, or if I wanted to work part time and was in a position where I didn't have to worry about when (or even if) the checks will come in, I'd be all over it. And regardless of what happens moving forward, I will continue to freelance at least part-time.
The second reason is directed at regular readers and friends: keep your ears open for me. I'm obviously looking for something writing-related, but I've also gotten a big kick out of teaching these first few weeks of the spring semester so I'd like to get some more adjunct work or even a faculty position at a New England-based college. I definitely have a track record for working independently and would prefer something in the realm of telecommuting, but that is certainly not a necessity. And, as always, I continue to look for freelance work: fair paying and long-term contract work suits me best given my current schedule, but I can always find time for a quick-hit job.
Labels: life, work, writing
Posted at 9:52 AM
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