Writing pays my bills.
I’m impressed by anyone who can come home after a day of writing and write. I’m flattered that I have creative friends who want to collaborate with me on creative writing projects, although I find when the hobby is also a breadwinner it’s a challenge some nights and weekends to sit down in front of an empty page.
I was listening to an old CBC broadcast with a writer talking about his trusty Moleskin notebook, and I plunked down a stupid amount of money to get my own when I could have spent a few loonies for a simple Wal-Mart notepad made in China.
I hold myself up as an example of what not to do in life; an anti-role model or perpetual before picture in the game of life. I made my friends aware of my purchase and they rightly teased me about the magical powers that I now possess as a result of having the right writing journal.
Starting a blog to bemoan the lack of multimedia opportunities in my newsroom did something I didn’t intend; it has encouraged me to write on my own time.
This weekend, I put chapter ideas in the Moleskin. It’s a start. A month from now it might turn into a scratch pad for grocery lists, but every project has it’s fork in the road and I’m hoping this is the way to get used to writing when it doesn’t pay the bills.
The Hyper Journalist