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Everyday Failures, Rip-offs, Blood, Sweat, Tears... and Occasional
Success of a Freelance Writer The following is an actual one-week diary of my freelancing life... Monday: Well, I finally got paid today by World Billfish Series for an article I wrote for them two months ago. The editor was very good about keeping up with me-- she checked in two days ago to see if I had gotten paid yet. (I hadn't.) She said she contacted the billing department, and they claimed they never received my invoice. So she faxed it to them again. Now, of course, I'm wondering how they possibly cut the new check and mailed it and got it into my mailbox in two days... either they're superhuman, or they DID have my original invoice and didn't realize it. I also got a new assignment from AdaptZ. Two of them, actually. That makes me feel good. They're a low-paying market, but the stories I write for them are the most important ones I write. They're meaty, and require me to do a lot of research and interviewing. Also, the editor there is nice about deadlines-- she lets me tell her when I think I can get the articles in. I told her it would take two weeks for each one. Tuesday: I am starting to hate Kid'N Around. I sent their editor yet another reminder that they haven't paid me yet. It's pretty sketchy, really. They approved my first column and offered me a monthly slot. I accepted it and wrote my second column right away. I didn't hear a word from them for a long time, even after I sent an invoice for the first. After the promised date of payment, the editor wrote to explain that her assistant accidentally gave me wrong information, and that checks would be mailed the following week. That was a month ago... and I still haven't even heard a word about the second column I wrote. So I sent off my fourth, I believe, letter asking for payment and approval of the second column. I didn't hedge at all this time. I just said, "Payment is overdue and I'm waiting." I'm learning to get tough. I've been ripped off one too many times. Wednesday: I'm trying to work up my energy and nerve to send out a batch of queries to major magazines for a story I originally covered for AdaptZ. The story means a lot to me; it's about a girl in Great Britain who is being denied a heart transplant because she has Down Syndrome. I actually have 108 pages of interviews with surgeons, transplant teams, medical ethicists, Down Syndrome advocacy groups... you name it, I covered it. Because of this extensive research, I promised myself that I would try to hit a major market with this one. What holds me back? Well, mostly the phone conversation. I had been trying to track down the girl's parents ever since I got the assignment, but no luck. Finally, another journalist in Great Britain called them on my behalf and found that they would be happy to talk to me. He wrote me a letter with their phone number and told me I owe him a pint next time I'm in G.B. (You know I'm good for it.) I could never have prepared for that conversation. I've been all gung-ho about his daughter's story-- trying to drum up anger and outrage and interest so that someone will listen up and give this girl the transplant she needs. Then I speak to her father, only to find out that he's already preparing her funeral. It's too late. I'm too late. I still haven't gotten that out of my head... that no matter what I do now, my words aren't going to save this girl. The words of another woman I encountered in my research keep ringing through my head: "I know I'm retarded... my brain works too slow, and sometimes that's harder than anyone understands... but I don't want to die." She died. I have been very troubled about the idea of being a "real" journalist today. I don't want to be one. I want to write fluff pieces and editorials and humor and romance. The stories that mean something are the ones that kill me. The ones that force me to get rid of my own ignorance. They're also the only ones that matter. Thursday: How jarring. I did three interviews today-- a beauty pageant winner, a playwright, and an agent. It's sometimes tough to switch tones on a dime. I did the pageant winner by phone (no great surprise-- I wasn't actually expecting her to ruin her perfect fingernails typing). It was plain awful. I expect this to be perceived as a humor piece-- as an SNL-type parody. This poor gal. She actually went on and on about how she loves animals and children and charity work, and how she models swimwear in Paris and hopes to one day go into the fashion industry. Could we be more shallow and stereotypical? There was simply no depth to be drawn from her, and I have no plans of hiding that in the article. I have journalistic integrity, you know. The playwright was a riot. He was enthusiastic and honest. A good one. The agent... well... she only turned back brief answers to four of my twelve questions, which leaves me to wonder... why? Did she get busy? Does she not want to answer the rest? Was the e-mail cut off? I wrote back to her to ask. No reply yet. Oh, and no reply from Kid'N Around yet, either. (Surprise, surprise.) On the plus side, I got paid early for an article today. I think it was a mistake in billing-- they sent me two copies of the magazine with my payment... and my article isn't in the issue. It's scheduled to appear next month. Maybe they got confused because I sent it in early. In any case, I'm a happy camper. Friday: Ahh, an ethical dilemma. I actually got another check from World Billfish Series today. See? I knew they must have gotten my original invoice. Now they've paid me twice. Lord knows I could use the money, but I'm saddled with this overweening morality. I'll have to drop the editor a note and tell her to have the billing department cancel the second check. Tomorrow. It occurs to me today that I haven't worked on any of my OWN writing all month. My latest screenplay has been halted at page 70 since August-- mostly because of time constraints, but also partly because of the subject matter. It's all autobiographical, and that kind of scares me. I don't want to write the climax because I don't want to believe that my life has climaxed yet. The revision of my "greatest" screenplay is due in two days, and I just can't seem to convince myself to get in there and rewrite again. It's already been rewritten from page one four times. This one won't be as serious a rewrite, but a rewrite, nonetheless. I'm sick of looking at it. Even though it's my favorite. Still, I have to finish it up, because a producer is expecting it, and I already turned in an entry form for a contest that ends in two days. This begins the routine. I will feed my cats, prepare elaborate snacks, do my laundry, re-alphabetize my CDs, go to a writer's chat room, check my six thousand daily e-mails, work on this website, and water my dead plants... all to avoid actually writing. I am one of those deadbeat writers who hates writing, but loves having written. I am also working on sidebar quotes for an article for College Bound magazine. I've already written the whole article, and it was fun-- "What Not To Do, Say, Or Bring Your Freshmen Year Of College." Of course it was fun. Now I'm trying to gather up quotes from college students about the dumb mistakes they made while they were freshmen. Heck, I never realized I was the only dumb one. Trying to get people to tell me their embarrassing tales has been like pulling teeth. So far, the only one I like is "I brought a fanny pack." Saturday: Ugh. I just got a note from an editor to tell me that the photos my subjects were supposed to send in have not arrived, and the magazine is going to press on Monday. I have written to my subjects numerous times to bug them to send in a photo, and they keep telling me they will. I realized long ago that they would flake out, but I tried to lie to myself and pretend they'd come through. I hate it when other people make me look bad. They would have to Fed-Ex the photo today, and I just know that's not going to happen. Well, I have mixed feelings about this. I'm not getting paid for the photo, and I never offered it in the first place. So, part of me says, "Harumph. Not my problem." The other part says, "Yeah, but I want to be known as a writer who comes through, no matter what the challenge." I hope the editors won't hold a grudge, because I'm already working on another article for them. I worked all night on my screenplay today... but I'm not happy with it. In the revision, I'm afraid I took out too much of my favorite stuff. It's tough to kill your best lines for the sake of the total script. I wish I had the luxury of time-- to be able to put it down, then come back to it in a week with a fresh eye. I only have one more day, and I have three articles due next week. I feel another all-nighter coming tomorrow. Sunday: Well, skippy. The editor of AdaptZ just wrote to tell me that she's being laid off this month. They're getting rid of all freelancers and hiring a full-service editorial staff instead. She told me to go ahead with one assignment she gave me, but to forget the second one. This wouldn't be terrible, except that I need every penny I can get right now, because I just decided to go on a big trip next month. So, now it looks like I really do have to pick up some more jobs-- and hopefully at least one will be a major market. So, today, in lieu of actually writing, I will be poring through the "Writer's Market" and all of the writers' e-zines I get (Inscriptions is the best, by the way) and the writers' classifieds all over the web to try to land myself a few new assignments, fast. There are some months that I make a decent living. There are others when I don't get a single check all month. It's always interesting, but also very stressful. I never know if I'll be able to pay my bills. That's why the steady assignments I have are so important-- they're the only checks I can sort-of count on. It's a tough blow to lose one of them. I can't wait until this website grows to the point that I can start paying writers. I'd be my own dream publication-- one that actually pays writers on time, with no harassing needed. So, after I finish sending out the next batch of a million queries, I will work on this site and dream of the day when I will no longer have to send out another batch of a million queries. To read Jenna's bio, click here.
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