Now, that was unexpected
A couple of months ago I got a fairly unexpected e-mail It was from the managing editor of an industry trade magazine. He wanted me to write a short 1500 word article on my recent success in the world of political news reporting. I agreed, thinking at the time it would be good PR for my bosses and, frankly, for me.
I forgot about my promise to write the piece unitl about a week before deadline. With as much effort as I could put into a story about me, I did a couple of interviews with other people in the industry, strung together a few anecdotes, and submitted the piece for the editor's review.
A couple of days later he e-mailed me and thanked me for my submission. He wasn't sure when he would publish the piece, but he said to expect it this fall. I filed the experience in the "make sure to look for that later" file and went back to working for peanuts.
By 1:30 this afternoon, my day had been through three generations of stupidity. As I walked out the door to do some work, I noticed a strange envelope in my mailbox.
Enclosed, a short letter, including the phrase "enclosed is the fee for your contribution."
Fee? I don't remember anything about a fee.
I dug a little deeper and found a check...for $350.
Now, in the long run, $350 ain't going to pay for the mortgage. But, it might go a little way toward making this month's bills a little easier to pay.
Thing is...this is the first time I've ever been paid to write something. How about that? People will pay for something other people write.
This is a foreign concept to me. As I go through the fourth generation of my day's stupidty, I find myself musing about this little development.
Curious...indeed.
A couple of months ago I got a fairly unexpected e-mail It was from the managing editor of an industry trade magazine. He wanted me to write a short 1500 word article on my recent success in the world of political news reporting. I agreed, thinking at the time it would be good PR for my bosses and, frankly, for me.
I forgot about my promise to write the piece unitl about a week before deadline. With as much effort as I could put into a story about me, I did a couple of interviews with other people in the industry, strung together a few anecdotes, and submitted the piece for the editor's review.
A couple of days later he e-mailed me and thanked me for my submission. He wasn't sure when he would publish the piece, but he said to expect it this fall. I filed the experience in the "make sure to look for that later" file and went back to working for peanuts.
By 1:30 this afternoon, my day had been through three generations of stupidity. As I walked out the door to do some work, I noticed a strange envelope in my mailbox.
Enclosed, a short letter, including the phrase "enclosed is the fee for your contribution."
Fee? I don't remember anything about a fee.
I dug a little deeper and found a check...for $350.
Now, in the long run, $350 ain't going to pay for the mortgage. But, it might go a little way toward making this month's bills a little easier to pay.
Thing is...this is the first time I've ever been paid to write something. How about that? People will pay for something other people write.
This is a foreign concept to me. As I go through the fourth generation of my day's stupidty, I find myself musing about this little development.
Curious...indeed.
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