Presenting my first novel in eight years and my first self-published novel. Yay me!
MR. FIX-IT IS VERY GOOD WITH HIS HANDS…. Jenessa Sterling, the sophisticated, successful Corporate Communications Manager of Bianchi’s frozen foods, has a mysterious admirer, who eventually reveals himself to be Mitchell Cooper, the new Head of Maintenance. Tall and hazel-eyed, he’s one of the hottest things to turn up on her horizon in ages, and he’s not afraid to let her know he’s interested.
Jenessa’s flattered, even equally attracted. But there’s one little problem: she’s Management. He’s a glorified handyman. What would her colleagues say? But as her attraction to this sensual, well-read, irresistible man grows, her prejudices begin to fade.
Mitchell is confident enough in his own masculinity that she’ll eventually come around. Far from unlearned and simplistic, he’s a complex, well-educated man who left academia to have more time to care for his 12-year-old niece, Ruby, shielding her from her mother, Mitchell’s crack-addicted sister, Coral. He’s a man who believes in heart, friendship and family.
When sudden layoffs tear the company apart, Jenessa and Mitchell find themselves on opposite sides of an ugly corporate rift, with Jenessa struggling to maintain the company’s reputation, and Mitchell putting his career on the line to bring peace back to the workplace and support the people he believes in.
Their relationship doesn’t sit well with the rest of Bianchi’s, either. His staff think he’s sleeping with the enemy. Her people have threatened to sink her chances of attaining the coveted Vice Presidency if she continues the relationship.
When Mitchell’s sister’s bid to recover Ruby turns dangerous, the couple must refocus their attentions on keeping her safe. In so doing, they forget the barriers between them and discover that love, passion and the bonds of family are enough.
In the last week of January, days before my XXth birthday (but that’s irrelevant), I began taking Upwork seriously. I’d signed up on a whim some time last year and never returned. Now, with the local economy sucking as it currently does, it was clear that if I was to continue to enjoy my indoor-pool, designer crockpot, Bahamas-vacation lifestyle, I was going to have to look beyond these shores for work. Hence, the freelance site, Upwork.
In just three months, I’ve been upgraded to Top Rated
status, with straight five-star reviews and a customer satisfaction rating that
vacillates between 96% and 100%. Not being boasty; being facty. And today I
want to share with my fellow freelancers and side-hustlers what I’ve learned.
Much has been said about how hard it is to eke out an
existence on freelance sites, but if you learn the tricks, you can make a good
living.
Upwork is more than writing
I’m a writer and editor, yes, so that’s the field I’m
registered in, but as long as you can deliver a service long distance, whatever
it may be, there are people looking for you.
Work that profile
I spent days on my profile, polishing and primping, checking
it over again and again, making sure I looked as good as a Miss World pageant
applicant, shiny teeth and all. I thought about everything a client would want
to know about me, and everything I have achieved that might put me ahead of the
competition. This is not a time for modesty.
Check the job listings frequently
Check the job listings relevant to your field of expertise several
times a day. In just an hour, an attractive listing can garner 20 applications.
You want to be in early.
Check them first thing when you get up and last thing before
you go to bed. Remember there are English-speaking clients on the other side of
the world—Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, etc.—who are up and posting
while you sleep. Get in on that!
Keep your proposals clear, thoughtful and appropriate
Be clear about what you are offering, how and when you intend to deliver. Don’t apply for a job if you have doubts about your ability to fulfill their requirements. You will screw that shit up, and a pissed-off client will blast you in the reviews.
Speaking of which . . .
Remember you are being monitored
All the time. Clients can review your performance after your
contract is up, and you can review theirs. Upwork also has an algorithm running
in the background that measures “customer satisfaction” according to a number
of undisclosed factors. These include how fast you respond, how fast you
deliver, how many clients come back asking for you, etc.
There are a few traps I consider unfair. For example, if a client chooses not to review you, it is considered negative, so your rating is affected even when there is no activity. I had a client who was so excited he gushed about what I’d done and rehired me, but he’s not good with computers so couldn’t find the review button. No stars for me, and Upwork thinks he’s pissed off.
I also learned that if the FREELANCER clicks “end contract”
it mitigates against you, as opposed to if the CLIENT does. Sucks, eh?
Ask for your review
If your client doesn’t fill out the review field, politely
ask, explaining that it impacts on your future jobs. Most of them comply.
Read your proposal carefully
Some clients bury traps and loopholes in their job listing to catch out the slackers who madly apply for every damn job. Like, at the end of a long listing, they will ask you to write “Butterfly” at the start of your proposal. This is to ensure that you have read the entire thing.
Proofread, proofread, proofread
Don’t let a perfectly good proposal be overlooked because of
a misspelling or grammatical error. If they have 20 people to choose from and
you spell something wrong, consider your ass kicked to the curb.
Separate yourself from the herd
A nice little note like this at the end of a contract lets them know they are special to you.
Clients receive a dazzling number of proposals, especially for the more lucrative posts. How do they choose? Apart from your excellent profile, your qualifications and your carefully framed post, they choose YOU for YOU.
I have asked clients why they picked me out of the pack, and they have all told me, apart from my experience and portfolio, it was my personality. Your proposals must be warm, approachable and fresh . . . but still businesslike. They ain’t your buddy.
Suck it up
Prosperity on Upwork is built upon your reputation, ratings,
and experience. You need to put some time in the trenches for people to take
you seriously. This means that at the outset, you must be willing to take jobs
for a little less that you’re normally earn IRL.
Think of it as paying your dues, or making a sacrifice for
free advertisement. Your focus at the outset must be on EARNING YOUR STARS. My
first job, I was paid US$35. And I worked on that project FOR DAYS. The result
was a five-star rating, an invitation to become one of their permanent writers
(I declined) and the promise that they will come to me whenever they have
another book to edit. Two of my clients have since offered me 10-book and
6-book contracts for a tidy sum of money.
In time, as your profile rises, you will no longer have to
go looking for them; they will come looking for YOU.
Hang on to your self-respect
By the same token, don’t be so focused on building your
stars that you let people take advantage of you. There are clients out there
who, like certain *cough* jeans and sneaker companies, have no problem
leveraging their first-world status over us third-worlders. But you do not live
in Bangladesh. You cannot feed your entire tribe on $1 a day.
I will never forget the client who, in my first week, very
snidely and patronisingly offered me US$2 for each 500-word article I wrote. “You
can get stars,” he dangled before me, “and you can write as many a day as you
like!”
Um . . . IRL I get TT$1 a word from my corporate clients. I
declined as sweetly and politely as I could, even though the urge to cuss him
and all his generations was strong in me. I kept it classy.
Get yourself a Payoneer card
For my Trini homies, it can be hard to sign up with these sites if they demand a US bank account. You can get around that by applying for a Payoneer debit card. It’s secure and reliable, and Upwork pays directly to it. Try Payoneer.com .
Every client is a VIP
It doesn’t matter if they’re paying you $50 or $300; their
job is important to THEM. Treat it as such. Give your all, no matter what you’re
earning. Be respectful, hard-working, and honest with your time calculations.
Every job you deliver should be the best you have ever done. Their happiness
(and your stars) will be your reward.
Google your client
Try to find their Facebook, Insta, Twitter, whatever. You
might learn a bit about them, and how to approach them. You might also get some
red flags. I was very excited about one client I applied to. The job sounded so
cool . . . and then I discovered in
several online newspapers that he was indicted for a series of major federal
offences and was looking at doing a dime behind bars if he was ever convicted.
So, yeah.
Keep at it
Upwork is a commitment. Like a delicate houseplant, it needs
daily attention. But if you water it, feed it, give it lots of air, sunlight
and love, it will thrive.
What do you think? Any experiences to share? comment below.
Blind dates aren’t for everyone. It’s hard enough going
through that first date with someone you know, but going out with someone
you’ve never even met before can be a little . . . well, here are a few stories
that will show you what we mean.
“When we were chatting online he told me he loved women’s feet. He even asked me for a ‘foot selfie’, if you can call it that. I thought he was joking. When we met up, the first thing he did was look down at my toes, peeking through my sandals . . . and he got really, really excited. Like, orgasm at the table, excited. I was so weirded out I faked an emergency and told him I had to go home.”
“His car was so rusty I could see the road
through the floor. I was worried the bottom might fall out. I kept thinking of
Fred Flintstone.”
“Some friend of his called and gave him the
whole run down about some woman the friend met at a club the night before. He
kept sympathising with him, and advising him how you mustn’t treat ‘them
skanks’ too good. After the call ended, he looked at me, smiled, and said, ‘Not
you, eh, baby’.”
“He had this old, beat-up cage on the back seat.
He saw me watching it and told me he liked to catch squirrels in the forest. He
laughed when he said it, so I think he was joking, but jeez . . . I couldn’t
get my mind off squirrels all night.”
“His sister came with us, and they got into a
fight. About him making his mother wash his clothes. He dropped her off at City
Gate and told her to take a maxi taxi home.”
“He was a health freak. At dinner, he told me he
didn’t eat anything white: rice, milk, sugar, flour . . .. When my dessert
came, he asked me if anybody in my family had diabetes.”
“He paid for dinner with a 30% off coupon.”
Had any weird ones
lately? Share them in the comments. Pleeaase?
Who WOULDN’T want to be nibbled all over by a warm, fuzzy kitty?
Ever since Neanderthal men first learned to bonk us on our
heads and drag us to their lairs, the older man/younger woman scenario has been
the norm. And let’s not fool ourselves: it still is. But these days, we have
more options. We’re economically and socially free to choose our mates, be they
of our own vintage or otherwise. The older woman/younger man scenario no longer
raises eyebrows. Ladies, welcome to the Age of the Cougar.
Be warned, however, not all of society is on the same page,
so while dating a younger man has its plusses, it also has its minuses. Here’s
what we mean.
When going out to
dinner at a fancy restaurant
PRO: As the more
seasoned and better travelled person, you get to pass on your greater experience
with fine food and wine. Perhaps even charm him with an anecdote or two about
roasting goat meat over an open fire while backpacking in Andorra.
CON: The waiter
takes his drink order, then asks him, “And what sill your auntie be having to
drink, sir?”
When going dancing
PRO: He knows all
the hot places, all the new dances, and has boundless energy, enough to dance
all night and still have lots left over for later . . . if you know what I
mean.
CON: You’re used
to having your blankie tucked under your chin by eleven . . . which is the time he actually intends to come
pick you up for your date.
Arts, music and
culture
PRO: He’ll see
you as a fountain of knowledge. There are so many things you can teach him, and
so many ways to be his muse.
CON: He’ll give you a blank look when you mention bands like REO Speedwagon, and the information that “We Are The World” for Haiti is actually a remake just might floor him.
Your body, his temple
PRO: Most men are
less judgmental than you think. You may hate your poochy tummy, but to him,
you’re a goddess. One who’s old enough to know not to giggle or chew gum while
making out.
CON: If you go back to his place, brace yourself for all the posters of 19-year-old supermodels on his wall, and Lara Croft on his computer wallpaper. He’s a man, after all, and men like to look.
His previous
relationships
PRO: Less
baggage, such as ex-wives, children, broken hearts, bitterness, and all the
emotional clutter that comes with it.
CON: Less
experience, which makes him more likely to suffer from foot-in-mouth disease
when it comes to talking things through.
When you’re in bed
PRO: He’s in his
sexual prime, practically drowning in hormones. Enthusiastic, energetic, and
happy to pick up a few tips from someone who’s taken a few more trips around
the planet than he has.
CONS: What cons? Did you really think there’d be cons to this? Roar, cougars! Roar!
The irresistible appeal of vampires and werewolves
Women
of the world have gone vampire and werewolf mad. The last two decades have seen an upsurge in
women thirsting for a good paranormal story, a glimpse of those beautiful,
deadly males who take our breath away with a glance, and who—if we aren’t
careful—can drain our life’s essence with a single bite.
Vampires
and werewolves are mysterious breeds, and there are as many interpretations of
their species as there are paranormal writers.
The teens of the Twilight saga are sulky and brooding, the bayou
blood-suckers of True Blood are savage and amoral, Ann Rice’s
night-creatures are sensual and resplendent.
Bram Stoker’s Dracula, the great grand-daddy of them all, was at once a
dandified gentleman and a hideous beast from the deepest crevices of Hell.
So
why is it that these men, who should be the stuff of nightmares, are instead the
fabric of our most sensual fantasies?
They’re ultra-manly, and uber-gorgeous
Let’s
not kid ourselves, ladies. Vampires and
werewolves are lookers. It’s as if their
curse also left them with jaw-dropping good looks, mind-blowing physiques, and super-human
strength. And, yeah, pecs to die for,
which, bless the heavens, they have no problems showing off. Can it get
any better?
These
supernatural creatures are the definition of masculinity, an exaggeration of
all we’ve ever desired. Big, strong,
handsome, oozing testosterone from every pore.
Hands up if you’ve ever seen a weak, wimpy, wussy werewolf. Anyone?
Anyone? Didn’t think so.
We love bad boys
Vampires
and werewolves don’t have get-out-of-Hell-free-cards. They’re damned, and they
know it. So why not be as bad as they
wanna be? These guys are reckless and
rude. They court danger, laugh in the
face of death.
Werewolves
don’t become accountants. Vampires don’t
teach pre-school. They fight, they
prowl, they do donuts in parking lots in their 10-second cars and pop wheelies
on their speed bikes. They’re overgrown
boys, but we love them anyway.
They’re wild and passionate lovers
Vampires
and werewolves are the manifestation of the human sexual urge. They’re walking libidos. While Edward Cullen doesn’t trust himself to
touch Bella, P.N. Elrod’s vampire P.I., Jack, has no such reservations when it
comes to his girlfriend, Bobbi. For this
brave woman, a nip on the throat brings indescribable ecstasy. And werewolves, well, they’re just plain
animalistic. But in a good way.
They take us to the edge of danger and
bring us back
Make
no mistake; these creatures are killers.
When angered, they go for the jugular—literally. But we know that the supernatural loves of
our lives would never, ever hurt us.
Any
self-respecting werewolf would chain himself to a tree before the full moon
rises to prevent himself from hurting the woman he loves. Our vampire lover would go veggie, or at the
very least, sneak off down to a nearby sheep farm to chow down, rather than run
the risk of getting hungry in our presence.
For them, we’re lovers, not snacks. Doesn’t that make us feel special!
They’re protective of their females
Vampires
and werewolves are the distillation of manhood, and all good men look after
their women. They’d defend us against
our enemies to the last drop of blood in their bodies. Anyone who hurts us won’t have much time for
regrets. It’s a simple formula; you
touch their girl, you die.
They
don’t stop to think about it, or to reason.
For them, vengeance is a dish better eaten warm. And, preferably, screaming.
They’d give us awesome offspring
Any
woman who says she isn’t delighted when her child is first across the finish
line or comes first in test is lying. We
constantly compare our offspring to others, and it pleases us no end to think
that ours have the edge on everyone else’s.
Just
think what a werewolf gene could do.
And
although vampires don’t reproduce that way, they do gather in small groups, and
with the right alpha mate, the opportunity to play den mother to a brood of
young vamps can’t be ignored.
Either
way, we’d have a family of youngsters who are smarter, faster, and
stronger. As a bonus, they don’t spend
much time at home with pesky childhood diseases like measles and the flu. It can’t get better than that!
We love them because they make us feel
alive
Werewolves and vampires. Beautiful, sensual, loyal, strong, protective, and just plain sexy. We love the idea of them, and thrill to the thought that somewhere out there, they really might exist. And among them, there is a perfect specimen, whose destiny is intertwined—with ours.
Carnival has whooshed past, and probably you spent it
chipping down the road with your honey.
A few of you, however, either played Mas alone, fending off the
hound-dogs eager to buss a wine on an unaccompanied female, because your man
can’t stand crowds, or fuming alone at home, your hopes for a romantic cuddle-fest
dashed, while he ran around town flinging water and powder.
It’s great to have a soulmate, but what happens when your
ideas of fun are so diverse that when one of you is having a ball, the other is
grinding his teeth?
If it don’t fit,
don’t force it
If your idea of a weekend well spent is screaming at horses
as they race around the track, while he couldn’t tell a mare from a mule, don’t
drag the man to Santa Rosa. He’ll spend
the day glancing at his watch and stifling yawns, and you’ll feel guilty, or,
worse yet, irritated by his glassy-eyed stares while you try to explain the
meaning of “Daily Double”. If he loves
breathing the dust left behind by rally cars, while you can’t fathom why grown
men squeal like little girls over gold-toned mag rims, you’re better off
letting him hit the rally route on his own.
Being in love doesn’t mean you have to live in each other’s
pockets. Your every passion doesn’t need
to be fully synced for you to be compatible.
After all, Jack Sprat and his wife had opposing culinary tastes, and
they got along just fine.
Find a hobby-buddy
You don’t have to indulge your passion alone just because
he’s not with you. Join an online forum,
or link up with friends who are just as into your passion as you are. But be careful; if your hobby-buddy is male,
and attractive to boot, you just might be letting your lover’s green-eyed
monster out of its cage.
Find common ground
Come on! There MUST
be something you and your lover can find to enjoy together—other than the
obvious, wink, wink. If neither of you has
a hobby or interest that the other appreciates, find one. Take a creative class together. Try something you’ve never tried before. You’re already connected by love; there must
be a common yearning inside of you longing to be filled. You just need to find it, run with it, and
discover another great reason why you’re meant to be together.
Well, any more
strategies to add? Let’s hear ‘em in the comments!
Carnival is freedom, self-expression, release, beauty, sex,
madness and mud. And, of course,
Carnival is wining, that gyrating, hip-swivelling, bottom-rolling motion that
few women not born on this soil can even hope to perfect.
And Carnival, bless it, is the one time when women of every
hue and colouration, every creed, stripe and social strata, can toss aside their
sensible secretary’s pumps, their surgeon’s mask, their welder’s gloves, their
teacher’s red-ink pen and become in public the women they have only allowed themseelves
to be in private. Carnival is one big
show, and we, the women, are on stage.
But the whole world is watching, and the further our
liberties stretch, the harsher the conservative backlash is likely to be. Because make no mistake, the other 363 days
of the year, Trinidad and Tobago is as prudish and buttoned-down as it is
possible for a Western nation to be, and the Savannah concourse is littered
with the ruined reputations of women who have been reviled, mocked, sanctioned,
and even fired, for having been caught wining by the wrong person . . . or the
wrong camera lens.
So, with Carnival upon us, is a wining woman a glory to
behold, or a Jezebel to be shunned?
Wining is natural and
spontaneous
The majority of people polled . . . especially men . . . think
that wining is not just okay, but an essential part of our Mas and our
culture. Some even think wining is as
natural as breathing for us. “It’s
cultural,” says one man. “We may call it different things (church people praise
and dance, but they do NOT WINE, perish the thought) but the hip and buttock
movements are as much a part of us as is breathing. We have to work hard not to
swing our hips naturally.”
Wining is seduction
In any Carnival fete, in any Carnival band, you’ll find twenty
woman to one man, at least according to the results of the scientific survey
conducted years ago by the respected statistician, Professor Kitch. So what better forum in which to entice,
display and seduce?
“Wining is how we talk to men,” says a veteran female Mas
player, “Without using our lips. We let
the hips talk for us.” And the men
listen. To them, wining is a come-hither
look that originates in the eyes and travels downward. And even if it goes no further than that,
even if the searing-hot contact a woman makes on the dance floor is, to quote
one local poet, “just a wine”, we break apart and step away feeling better
about ourselves. We blossom under the
warmth of male admiration as flowers do in the sun.
Is wining new?
Another gentleman questions whether the wining phenomenon
has really been around as long as we think.
“I’ve seen a lot of footage of people dancing in the streets at Carnival
in the 1970s, 60s, and 50s. From none of
those videos have I ever seen a woman wine. Dance, sway the hips a bit, yes . .
. but not ‘wine’.”
If this is so, then the question arises whether the impulse
to wine was always there, stifled by social convention, and is only now being
given its freedom to run (or, rather, roll) as the constraints of social mores
relax?
“It have wine, and it
have WINE”
As much as we admire a good winer, there is a prevailing
sense that there are limits to what is and is not acceptable. There is a general sense of “play your Mas,
but set your boundaries.” As another
female Mas lover puts it, “Many Carnivals ago, I had the opportunity to watch a
young masquerader wine and dance and enjoy herself. She went down to the ground
and move all around and nothing about how she conducted herself was lewd or
vulgar. She was enjoying her Mas . . . then there are those who choose to have
sex in the streets and take it to the next level. It is how you carry and
conduct yourself.”
As far as that goes, unfortunately, lewdness is in the eye
of the beholder. What may be a tame
little shimmy for one person may be a shameless display to another. It’s even more unfortunate that while women
are still being judged by their attire and conduct at Carnival and beyond, men
seldom are.
By and large, though, the sight of a wining woman, a woman
working her costume, enjoying her temporary escape from the rigid boundaries
that barricade most of us, a woman who loves to be looked at and, in that
moment, knows that she is sexy and desirable, is a beautiful thing to behold.
The sight of this kind of winer, celebrating her freedom and womanhood, rarely evokes shock, and seldom gives rise to a negative reaction from her enthralled audience. “It doesn’t change my view of women,” a young man observes. “It extends it. It completes it.”
Excited to hear your point of view. Please leave a comment below.
It’s Carnival time, and in T&T, where the road make to walk and woman is boss, that makes you a queen in your own right. But what kind of Carnival queen are you? Here’s how to find out.
It’s almost 2:00 a.m. at the hottest fete for the season, and Machel is up on stage, calling for a wining partner. You:
Literally climb over the crowd to get there, then promptly put on a display that would shock even the seasoned Soca veteran.
Challenge the best-looking man in your posse to help you out-do the girls on stage, right there in the audience.
Close your eyes, throw your arms in the air and just enjoy the groove.
Fete? Two a.m.? Is your bed wet?
It’s J’Ouvert morning and the crowd on the pavement is thick. A cute cop asks you to move back a little. You:
Tell him to make you move, nah.
Buss a wine on the man, back him up against a post, and ask him what calibre his gun is.
Hug up your homegirls and keep on chipping with your band.
Can’t hear him. You’re up in the bleachers.
Carnival isn’t getting any cheaper. How do you finance your Mas?
Take out a loan if you can. Otherwise, beg, borrow or steal. You could live on crackers and cheese for the
rest of the year.
You’ve never paid for a costume in your
life. That’s what men are for.
Put aside a little every month, and if that
doesn’t cover it, take a big bite out of your January budget. It’s worth it.
Two snow cones and a ticket to Red Cross
Kiddies’ Carnival hardly counts as an expense.
Your pan side makes it to Panorama Semis. You:
Negotiate your way onstage as flag woman, and,
when the cameras are on you, do things with the flag that could get you jailed.
Hang around the pan yard for every practice and
try to catch the eye of the nice Ras on the tenor.
Practice, practice, practice, and play your
heart out on competition night. Yeah, of
course you play pan!
Visit the pan yard once in a while, and buy a
jersey to show your support.
Tuesday evening, everybody head hot. A fight breaks out, and soon the air is thick with bottles. You:
Try to get as many knocks in as you can, and then slip away and act as if you weren’t the one who started the fight in the first place.
Hang on to the nearest hunk and plead for protection. Hang on TIGHT.
Run for cover, and find somewhere else to jam. No violence is going to get between you and your Mas.
Shout for your husband to come and see a bottle fight on TV.
Results
Mostly 1s: You are June Gardiner’s Bacchanal Woman
You believe Carnival was created to let off steam, and you
let off enough to power a small locomotive.
Ease your inner wajang off her leash just a little . . . but keep your
sane and sober self in control. Remember
the power of the cell phone camera and the reach of social media. The last thing you need is a viral video
you’re going to have to explain to your boss, your family, and your future kids.
Mostly 2s: You are Elsie Lee Heung’s Diana, Goddess of the Hunt
You’re on the prowl for big game—the handsome, hunky
two-legged kind—and the streets of Port of Spain are your happy hunting ground.
We enjoy the rippling, bare-chested eye-candy too, but let’s be careful out
there; many blue devils are still devils when the paint comes off. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.
Mostly 3s: You are Allyson Brown’s Tan Tan
You love the Mas and the Mas loves you. You like the feel of the costume against your
skin and the smell of the Savannah dust.
Play your Mas, girl, play your Mas.
Mostly 4s: You’re Anra Bobb’s Love and Peace
Carnival just isn’t your cup of tea, and you’re content to
sit back and let others enjoy it without laying a dose of the guilts on
them. Maybe you ought to sit this one
out; take it in on TV, read a book, or escape to a Caribbean island with your
honey and make your own Carnival memory.
Let’s talk
about money, even though it’s objectively less appropriate than talking about
sex. Money’s cool. I wouldn’t mind having some. I used to make a reasonable,
liveable amount, actually, and then, goddammit, I quit to become a full-time
writer/editor/origami enthusiast.
Now here I
am at fifty-cough, calling up clients with my sweetest cheque-chasing
voice once every couple of weeks, rolling over my credit card balance with the deftness
of a plate-spinner at the circus, and hoarding loyalty points like rare simoleons.
I recently
joined a couple of those freelance aggregate sites, where freelancers and
potential clients do a tango as delicate as anything on Ok Cupid, where you
coyly flash your diploma, and maybe a book cover or two, in hopes of catching
their eye. And then they offer you US$2 each to write them a passel of 500-word
articles. No, seriously, someone did. I didn’t even bother to give them a piece
of my mind; I need it to trawl for work.
So my whine for
today is, why are we writers paid so badly, especially as compared to
professionals of equal intelligence, education, and general know-stuffedness?
Why would clients sign away their third-born child to pay legal fees but try to
beat down my hourly rate because I stopped in the middle of it for coffee?
The chances
of making a good living (whatever that means to you) writing are despairingly low.
And the chances of making a great, Stephen-King-pays-all-his-town’s-taxes level
living? One in several octopusillion.
Look, I don’t
need a vast estate surrounded by a gargoyle-topped iron gate. I don’t need to
be flying off to Paris on weekends . . . okay, really, I’d kill to fly off to
Paris for the weekend. But do ya get what I’m saying? Like Jabberjaw, I just
want a little respect.
Even though 2.2 million new books are published every year. Even though people still think, “It won’t take long, so I don’t have to pay much.” Even though most people seem to think that a II in CXC English qualifies them to pen the world’s next breakthrough masterpiece, so why pay me to do it?
All I can say is, writer-folks, we need to stay strong. We need to remember that all authors, including the A list, have to suck up rejection at some point and persist. We need to know when to hold ‘em and when to fold ‘em. Not to leap at an offer that’s clearly wrong for us just to make a buck. And we need to stand together. If a job doesn’t suit me, I’ll give the client your name; I expect you to do the same for me. If I hear a great tip, or have a wonderful idea, I’m going to share it with you. That’s how our community gets stronger.
And I sure
as hot hairy hell ain’t taking no steenking job for $2. The nerve of some
people!
Thoughts? Any experiences you’d like to share? (Writing or not?)
