Despite my previous negative response to the question about why I don't write for a living, I have recently been giving the matter considerable serious thought. Aside from the simple fact that writing well takes a lot of BS&T, nearly all the reasons I gave for not writing for money are related to my attitude toward those who would presumably pay me for my work. Also, I noted that, relative to the pay of a systems analyst, the expected remuneration from writing would be on the same level as whale feces.
However, I have recently experienced a sort of Epiphany.
As you may have gleaned from recent blog entries, my attitude towards work has been dominated by the question "Am I getting paid for this?" So, much like a prostitute, I would dutifully show up at the client's place of business and perform acts that might be likened to those of a common whore in exchange for money. It was an impersonal business deal.
They needed a warm body and I needed to get paid. They wanted someone to talk to users, go to meetings, write business requirements, work with developers to solve problems, test solutions and make the users happy. This was fine and interesting work.
But they also wanted the ego gratification associated with demanding status reports, attendance at boring and interminable planning meetings (where they told you the weekly change in plans), and painful, inane conference calls with a cast total idiots. I complied with these acts of virtual fellatio and justified it with an affirmative to the question, "Am I getting paid for this?" I began to focus on the odious 20 mile commute which was costing me an hour and one half each day. Gasoline prices were rising sharply. Traffic seemed unbearable.
I was getting well paid, but still I could not wait for the project to end. When it finally did, I left without so much as a pang of loss. (For the record, they did not seem to miss me either. I was unable to elicit any feedback from them - no praise, no criticism. They simply saw me as an interchangeable part who did his job. No more; no less.)
After a few months of non-employment, and with the specter of going back on a dreaded fixed income, I began to look for another "gig." Out of habit, I sought out the same sort of work. I even contacted the same folks who hired me last time, with the restriction that I would only consider situations where I could work locally (within 10 miles of home).
There has been a good response from pimps - er I mean 'recruiters' who saw me as an employable commodity.
Yet, the more I thought of going back, the less agreeable I felt about "just doing it for money." Most of the recruiters have stopped calling me. One said my restrictions were, "Not realistic." I tend to agree.
This is the Epiphany: Time is running out. Life is too short to be a whore. If I am going to do something, I will do it for the pleasure of it, not just for the money. I need to do something that is so enjoyable that I will get up early to do it, and show up even if I have to drive for two hours to get there. So far, the only thing that fits the bill is saltwater fishing, but I am actively thinking of other activities that might generate some income as well. Writing does come to mind. Maybe writing about fishing. Hmmn
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