I am taking a break from some writing with a looming deadline (as one does) to write about writing. Fun fact about me: in addition to providing quality editing services to literary and technical professionals, I also pick up some money ghostwriting, mainly chirpy copy for commercial sites. Eh, it pays the bills. OK, so it doesn’t actually pay the bills; it often goes to Trader Joe’s or Etsy, but small treats are important.
I wish making a buck had been covered as part of my MFA curriculum. I’d love to go back to Columbia and teach a course called “What Writers Really Do for Money” (hint: it’s usually not creating brilliant, award-winning masterpieces). Making extra cash is good, but the greatest benefit of taking on this sort of gig is that it makes you a more efficient writer. You no longer have the luxury of crafting the perfect opening line because that sucker is due in two hours, and you haven’t done the research yet. Nothing clears away the blank screen paralysis like deadline-induced panic. Think you can’t run a four-minute mile? Try it with a lion chasing you.
Of course, beating deadlines with minutes to spare provides an endorphin rush, which leads to pushing the next deadline for the mere thrill of it, but that’s a topic for another day. My point, if I can find it, is that routine, mindless, due by close of business day writing not only keeps a person in Belgian chocolate and artisan-crafted lip balm, it limbers up the mind so you can press on through writer’s block, creative ennui, qi blockage, or whatever else is keeping you from starting, continuing, and finishing projects. Many writers and teachers will tell you “Write every day.” I say, make the exercise count for something and write stuff you get paid for every day.
“How on earth do I do that without contacts or experience?” you may be yelling at your screen right now. You get started here, or someplace like it. You’re welcome.