I was recently to paid to write.
It felt good.
The editor of the local paper approached me a few months back with the idea of doing some freelance work. He didn’t really ask. I saw him in a parking lot and he invited me to drop by the paper for coffee that afternoon. I did. Once I got there he greeted me with, “There’s my new freelancer!”
It made me smile. We’d worked together years earlier there and are known commodities to one another. He took over the position last year when the editor and co-owner dropped dead.
This arrangement works for both of us. He gets copy from me and I get money, a reason to get out and about, and a whole new set of shiny fresh publication credits. They’ll be awfully handy when I start peddling my manuscript(s) to publishers again. My old reporting credits were getting a wee bit shopworn after lo these seven years.
I feel good doing it. Physically I feel more energy flowing through me and I think my mental process have kicked up a gear or so. I’ve got a few more ideas to play with and it’ll keep me occupied for a bit.
Best of all, beyond the money and the publication credits and the energy, is knowing that the more I write, the more I will write.
Haec Sunt Mea Ornamenta
15 minutes ago