A couple weeks ago I completed my first paid writing job. The amount of anxiety, excitement, terror, and pride it filled me with was overwhelming. When I turned the first draft in, I fully expected the editor to hate it. "Why did I hire a blogger to do a writer's job?!!", I was sure he would say. Instead, he had nothing but kind words for me, and it made me feel like a million bucks.
The money, although much needed and appreciated, was really just icing on the cake. It felt so good to turn in something I was proud of...something that made me, for the first time, seriously believe that writing was a possibility, if not to make a living off of, then at least as more than a means to explore my psyche.
When the job was completed, the editor (who was beyond awesome) thanked me in a nice email. In the "P.S." he wrote "Have you ever thought of writing for young adults? Just a hunch, but I bet you'd be very good at it. " Hmmm...no, I hadn't thought about that, but once he mentioned it, I couldn't get it out of my head. He gave me the names of a couple books along those lines, so I'm going to check them out at the library.
I have this job that could be either really boring, or a really great way to use my time creatively, but still have the security of a steady paycheck. I can read, write, research all day...or I can spend eight hours reading other people's blogs, gossip, checking my email, and feeling like I'm wasting my time.
I have no idea how to get published, or if anything I write would be worth publishing. In the mean time, while I figure this stuff out, it doesn't hurt to just start writing...right? So that's what I'm going to do. I've even made a chain.