… which is why I’m posting stuff other people have written. Talent by proxy. Some people make a damn fine living doing it. Either way, you should read this blog post.
A little sample:
Few writers make enough money to earn a so-called “living wage.”
What is a living wage, you ask? It’s an annual wage that allows you to not perish. It allows you to not freeze to death, or not live in a dumpster where your extremities are eaten by opossum, or not die of starvation under an underpass. I mean, let’s be clear: most writers earn less than your average hobo. A hobo, he might earn ten bucks an hour. Sure, it goes toward booze or toward his raging Magic: The Gathering habit, but still, it’s more than you get paid to be a wordmonkey.
Okay, yeah, I earn a living wage, but you know how hard I have to work? I have to write like, 10,000 words per day. Backwards. While I provide sexual favors to industry insiders with my left hand (the sinister hand is the only hand appropriate for the tasks I give it to perform, be assured).
Since society still demands that we pay it money — and not, say, wampum or words or sexy dances — then trust me, it is not worth it being a writer. A writer, you’re basically just a homeless troglodyte.
~ Chuck Wendig
This comes to me by way of a reader/eFriend. It literally had me LOLing. I’d ROFL, but I’d have to clear a space for that or do laundry or something. So thank you, Trish. I owe you one.
Go read, beautiful friends.
~kisses for the world~