Writing Time

There's a time some evenings for writing. It's that time when I should be asleep, but can't. When the stacks of magazines, novels and non-fiction I've got lying around on my to-absorb list hold no interest. When my day job hasn't ripped every desire to type from my fingers. When it's time for me to write.

Except I have no bloody idea what I want to write about.

When I first started writing there was a list of things I wanted to achieve as a writer.

Get an academic article published.
Get a newspaper article published.
Get an article in a magazine (that people actually pay for).
Sell a piece of fiction.
Sell a short story.
Sell a script for a graphic novel/comic.

So far I've hit one of those, with another possibly in the works, but with seeming diminishing likelyhood. Neil Gaiman was published at 23, and writing Sandman at 29. Warren Ellis was writing for Marvel at 26.

I know it's a bit daft to compare oneself to other authors, but it's still terrifying. By writing in a drudge job, I'm completely removing any desire I have to work beyond what I have to. I have a half-dozen little side projects that never go anywhere due to lack of time and energy.

My job has sapped two of my only useful hobbies: photography and writing.

I want to tell stories.
I want to show pictures.

Bugger this emo shit. I want to write, and at least that's what I'm doing.

This may be a time of flux for writers, but that also makes it a time of interesting opportunity. The fact that ebooks are actually selling. That writers can release bits and pieces for free online, if they're sensible. Asimov's may be fading, but Escape Pod has a freaking huge number of listeners.

Freelancing has this romantic appeal, given the current situation. It gives the most promise for riding out the current shufflings of written media, as real jobs are few and far between. Plus the ability to flit from one subject to another is a glorious one. But no insurance. Shitty pay. Would you believe freelancing jobs are being outsourced?

I was recently checking out a freelancing website, which included a writing section. Standard deal, writers try and place a low bid on a contract. Reading their posts, basic language skills seemed nearly non-existent. Then I looked at how much was being paid. 50 cents for 200 words. $200 a week from 20,000 words. That's fucking ludicrous! Of course, it's near to a living wage in South Asia.

But not here.