Okay, I’m probably going to get myself into a lot of trouble for this, but…as I sat in my little Brooklyn studio this morning, ever the diligent worker bee for a number of different outlets, I couldn’t help but think of the age-old adage, “Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?”
That’s kind of how I feel about my career these days. And I guess it’s not a *completely* accurate analogy as I’m not writing for free, but, I mean, think about it: The milk is cheaper.
And I’m not sure if it’s a function of the economy and that it’s REALLY that there are TONS of places out there that would love to hire me full-time if only they could (but they just got out of a serious relationship? And are just not in the right place right now? And are incapable/unable to give me what I want/need? Or have had plenty of long-lasting, meaningful relationships with writers who are comfortable with non-exclusivity?)…OR…if it’s really that these places like to get together every once in awhile but are really not looking for anything serious…and are happy to string me along as long as they possibly can until the next poor chump comes along.
And, I mean, who are we kidding? A girl’s gotta pay her rent and a girl’s gotta eat, so…until Nora Ephron turns my book into a screenplay (or Mr. Wonderfulpants falls from the sky), I don’t really have a choice. But it did sort of hit me…in a kind of Carrie Bradshaw-esque voiceover with a closeup of typing across a Mac screen: Are freelancers the trollops of the media industry?
I don’t have a ton of time to expound upon this right this red, hot minute (as noted above — I’m a working girl!), but I feel like the past couple of days have been full of epiphanies and whatnot, so let’s maybe push a giant metaphorical pause button and revisit this after my deadline?