I’ve been pretty down after I read an article on paying writers: hard for money, in the winter 2014 edition of Overland (here are two other articles on the topic as well). It was upsetting because I have lived a lot of the reality being written about and I have found it depressing to my core to have little to no money given in exchange for the hours, time, craft and skill I put into each article I write. But this was also the exact, hard hitting, TRUTHFUL information I have been looking for, for well over 6 months. So I’ve been in a slump, realising how fucked I am, (having felt that to be true and now having it confirmed). But this just means I have to get another job (in a creative area I enjoy) to be able to live. Which was what I was working towards anyway. Yet I deeply mourn writers lack of rights and proper payment for work.
A few nice things have occurred that have helped me feel less chronic despair though. My memoir piece, which is literally a ripped out, still bloody, piece of my past and soul, is being published on the Feminartsy website this Wednesday. My interview through The Writers Bloc is being finalised and I should be going on air soon. I also got up the courage to ask about internship opportunities at Editia publishing and I’ve got back some very promising correspondence.
The reality of ‘the writing life’ doesn’t go away because of the good moments that bring me a sense of value, nor does the good outweigh the profoundly difficult, but they do enable me to feel hope.