When I was a kid my mum used to joke about how mercenary I was (normally when I’d demand payment for doing the ironing to be fair) so how has it got to the stage where I think I can honestly say I’m not in it for the money?
Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to be able to write (creatively) for a living, but yesterday I realised how little the payment involved bothers me in comparison to publication. Earlier in the week I was offered some well paid copy work through a friend and yesterday I found out that one of the stories I had on the shortlist for an anthology didn’t make it in.
The copy work? I’ll take. Would I swap the cash if it meant the rejected story made it in the book? In a second. (don’t tell my clients)
Having the opportunity to write fiction full time – or even near to full time – is the dream, but I think I just proved to myself that I’m going to end up ploughing away at writing and trying to get things placed even when it takes time and money away from other areas of my life. When did I let the mercenary streak slide huh? I guess I’m still hoping it’ll pay off n the end though, just in the creative sense rather than the financial one.