“You! You right there! You suck AT LIFE, mother fucker!”
For almost two years now, people have paid me to write for them. In the past year, I went strictly freelance and in doing so, my paid writing work picked up.
I feel very fortunate.
Actually, most of the time I feel completely bewildered.
Scared.
Confused.
Insecure.
Gassy.
Every day I envision a Russian totalitarian figure a la propagandic style standing tall amongst a backdrop of fire, pointing a giant forefinger at me and shouting, “YOU are obsolete! YOU have no idea what you are doing!”; a fleet of angular soldiers in perfect unison come to whisk me away and save humanity from the disease known as my poor prose.
I’m still not exactly sure where semicolons go and you will never see me use a word like “perfunctory” in a sentence. I’m not even sure what that means. Granted, I DON’T HAVE AN EDITOR TO FIX MY MISTAKES!
This is an insecurity I mostly keep to myself because, well, nothing is more unattractive (more…)