On giving up the ghost

Two years.

Over twenty books written. All under gagged contracts.

This week, I gave up ghostwriting.

The weight off my shoulders…it’s beyond belief. All my creative energy these past two years has been sucked up by work that wasn’t my own, that I often despised even as I wrote it.

Today I stepped outside and wrote my own words for the first time in years. Here are those words:

In a Parisian style cafe, nestled in the heart of a New England town, a woman perched on the brown sofa in the corner, pulled out a green-inked pen and reached for the only parchment she could find-a pile of recycled napkins.

The drink she had chosen stung like cough syrup on her tongue, the promise of antioxidants ringing hollow in the foul taste.

In this moment, she was free.

No longer burdened with the endless task of writing for someone else’s profit, the woman did something rare and beautiful. She took a moment for herself and she wrote her own words for the first time in years.

How beautiful it felt! How easily her breath flowed without the choking collar of work one doesn’t believe in-freed from the shackles to say exactly what she wanted, as she pleased.

In spite of herself, the woman dreamed. She believed that she could be so much more than she was. She believed in a world where miracles happened and hard work paid off and that little touch of luck that came with it was somewhere close by, waiting to blossom all around her and bestow bountiful rewards after years of suffering.

The tiny ball of hope that had been pushed deep down in favor of more practical things, like paying the bills and being a good mother, a good wife, a good daughter, sister, friend…so many roles to fill, so little time.

She lost herself, and with that loss hope was stored safely away until her mind could awaken once again.

These are the first words of that woman, who strives and falls short and keeps on anyway because hope is not yet gone. Luck is not yet gone.

There are still rooms filled with dreams and my legs work just fine. If they don’t, I will claw forward until I find my peace.

Welcome back, me.

Accepted! On what makes a person attractive

Well, after much toiling and roiling and lobster boiling, I’ve had one of my freelance pieces accepted! Of course, the compensation is exposure to the public and a general pat on the back, but I like those things much better than stale, cold silence, so I’ll take it! If there’s anyone reading this who is considering giving me money for my words, please feel free to do so.

For this piece I was asked to write an opinionated article on why an attractive person might be attracted to a…not so attractive person. Thought I’d share it here with you, because why not? Enjoy!

Writer Topic 1: Why an attractive person might choose an unattractive partner

There are a variety of reasons for choosing a life partner that go well beyond the realm of outward appearance. This question assumes that all human beings are shallow, egotistical creatures that rely on physical attraction alone when selecting a life mate. How insulting! So if an attractive man chooses to wed a homely woman, the only feasible reason must be that it is because he can trust her not to stray? Why would she, when she’s obviously won such a prize? And yet conversely we see beautiful actresses get cheated on all the time by men both conventionally handsome and otherwise. Clearly there must be something more required than mere looks.

Is it so difficult to conceive that there are people out there who appreciate their partner for their mind? For being a strong support system in a threatening and unforgiving world? Obviously attraction plays a major factor in successful relationships; it is hard to imagine having sex with someone that disgusts you. However, I would like to believe that love runs slightly deeper than human pores or an asymmetrical face. Believe it or not, outside of LA and New York this is actually true. A man and a woman can, feasibly, fall in love for the content of their character and not a chiseled face or thigh gap. Shocking, right? When it comes down to the important things: Who will be there for you during the dark times as well as the light? Who can have a conversation with you that has value and leaves you feeling heard? Who can you rely on? Who would you call first for good news or for an emergency? A beautiful face or an ugly face can achieve all or none of these things. Let us as a society strive to be a little deeper than we are, if not for our own sake than for our daughters and sons who already hate themselves for judgment.

Does this opinion seem unrealistic? How can it be, when handsome men are choosing homely women? The fact that this is even a topic means that our society is changing, and hopefully for the better. The more we focus on what lies within and judge on the content of one’s character, the more likely we are to see all sorts of “unlikely” relationships form. Is a man less trustworthy because he is attractive? Maybe. Attractive people do have it easier. They are used to getting what they want, when they want, and that can be changeable. But to judge someone by their beauty is no better than to judge someone by their homeliness. Try to see past the masks to what lies underneath. You might just meet the love of your life there!

On Meeting Deadlines

Recently I made the short list for a freelance writing gig (yay!) and they were kind enough to give us a few days to write sample pieces based on topics they provided. This is a cool process, and I hope that my savvy, oh-so-witty writing techniques (yeah, right, why does she use so many parenthetical asides? Shouldn’t these be like, their own sentences?) might land me some paid writing work. Don’t get me wrong. The $50 I made for my anthology entry was nice, but I already spent it. Probably on a Comcast bill…and yes, our DVR does freeze 50% of the time so the increase in our bill was ABSOLUTELY worth it.

Anyway it got me thinking back to college. I remember getting my papers done at least a month in advance. I remember my room mates wanting to punch me in the face while they toiled until 2AM the night before a paper was due while I kicked back with a margarita made with premixed sweet and sour juice (mm artificial). This particular challenge requires two pieces of writing, and while I was able to whip up one of them that very day (I’m not that changed, after all. The level of asides is getting atrocious in this entry. Oh well…) the other requires time spent evaluating a product. Now I know what you’re thinking. Why am I here on my cheap old personal blog that doesn’t pay me money when I could be getting that done? Well, smart ass, I won’t be near a computer that supports the website until I get home tonight.

You guessed it. This is my work break. That project could have been my lunch break. But I digress, meeting deadlines is kind of hard for me now. With daylight savings time destroying our baby’s general sense of purpose in life (and boy are we hearing about it) we, too, have a new schedule as parents that severely cuts into our personal time. Then I had a headache yesterday and couldn’t even fathom looking at a screen, much less thinking about what was dancing around on it.

Strange. I never had excuses before. I wonder if this means I’m a legit writer now. Don’t writers hate deadlines? I don’t mind them, my life just got a lot harder when adulthood hit and I had to juggle more and more nonsense like a mortgage and a full time job and a baby and basic hygiene and feeding myself and sometimes my husband if he’s good. I’m starting to wonder how anyone gets anything done ever while having these things. I guess they sacrifice one of them for the cause. Tonight my sacrifice will be nothing, because this is fun for me and I’m excited to get it done in time for my deadline tomorrow night.

For all of you with deadlines looming ahead of you, good luck. Before I would have said just do it you lazy piece of trash, but now I totally get how things get pushed back. Huh. This is a new one for me. Isn’t it funny how living through things develops compassion? I can’t wait to tell my daughter all the things I learned and have her completely ignore me until she experiences the mistakes and hardships personally. How fun that will be?! (Let’s end this in parentheses, because I’m happy and I know it and I clapped my hands. I might be listening to too much Baby Einstein Pandora.)

Time’s up!

On the hunt for freelance blog gigs

As surprising as it may seem, being a librarian doesn’t exactly pay well. I mean, we get the bills paid on time and all that, but the concept of having money to do fun things is all too alluring. So I’ve begun searching for freelance writing jobs.

So far I’ve gotten two responses from Craigslist. One of them is a form letter that offers several options, like:

If you are are accepted, watch this video! If you are not, do not watch this video. 

The thing is, I was never told whether or not I was accepted. Also I kept getting spam emails until I was able to block the guy…hopefully. Another one could very well be on its ominous way. Dangerous world out there, freelance writers. Dangerous world.

So how do we find reliable work for writing personable and relatable pieces? The Craigslist ads I won’t bother to post about, but I did find a freelance blogger site that seems fairly legit, and is free. They ask for your email address, but that seems to be all they really want. You can find the site here.

That said, how do we get paid for sharing our thoughts with the world? In an online universe where every Joe Schmo can stand on a digital stump and cry out their beliefs and opinions during all hours of the day or night, it seems impossible to sort one’s self from the herd. Also, I created a resume of my publications, but is it good enough? Does it matter that I have a Master’s degree, or should this be my only proof of competence? Do you care that I have a novel on the way, which is really, really hard to do?

As I continue to wait for responses from people looking for opinion pieces or recipe reviews or parenting advice or, best of all, pieces about writing (!) I try to bolster my hope that a regular, trustworthy gig will show up any minute. Then we could like, go out to eat. Or fly my mother in law in to see her only grandchild. Or watch our bank account go up for once. These are all just fantastic byproducts of my up and coming illustrious writing career.

So if you’re looking for freelance work and finding it stressful and frankly just a big old bummer, take heart. You are not alone. But if you find a good company willing to pay a lady for some excellent pieces of writing, feel free to send them to this teeny tiny corner of the internet, where I have recently placed my stump to call out to the world. I’m here, world! Come hear what I have to say. I’ll make you laugh a little, if you want. Do you like peaches? I have peaches! It’s in baby food form, but baby food fruit is actually delicious.

But you didn’t hear that from me. You heard it from my baby. No one eats some of their baby’s fruit…oh my look at the time. Ta-ta!