An Awesome Therapy

Yesterday I spent some time in the morning researching websites which talk about freelance writing jobs and how to get those jobs. There were lists of available jobs right now. There were message boards to go through to look for jobs. It was exciting to think that perhaps I could write a blog post, magazine or e-zine article and get paid. There’s nothing like getting some monetary reward for something you love to do. I love to write. I write something almost every day. I would love to get a job doing that. Especially if it were something I can do at home like that. Write a few articles a week and have some spending money. Oh the things I could do with some spending money. I began to look through the opportunities. Lots of topics. Art, design and photography; audio and multimedia; business and finance; computing and IT; entertainment and humor; food and drink; health and fitness; lifestyle; parenting and family; sport and leisure; travel and international; web development; writing blogs; etc. All these lists being very serious about their topic and expecting an educated mind to respond, perhaps with some serious research done.

I have forty-five posts on my blog. All of them quickly typed off the top of my head, from my heart. I have more than that in Scrivener. Nothing serious. I question whether anyone would read my posts never mind pay to have them. I write what I want to write. I write what I like. I just write. One morning I wrote a one thousand word page of nothing in particular. It was rather like a painting loaded with colors, vibrant and soft but with no definite shape or recognizable spaces. Words come streaming out and I an observer. Sometimes I have to change something because I do have a little education and even I know when something won’t work or just plain isn’t right. I have read some books and I have paid attention to some stuff.

These lists of topics intimidated me. I looked at them. I wasn’t even interested in them. If I did feel qualified to write for them, I’m not sure my writing would fit in. I don’t do things like ordinary people. I don’t live like ordinary people. I don’t raise my children ordinary either so even the parenting lists went over my head and out the door. I couldn’t write for the finance columns. What do I know about art? I love art and I like to make art sometimes, although I haven’t picked up a paintbrush since Debbie was here. I couldn’t write about housecleaning and homemaking since I know very little about either. I couldn’t write about being a good wife. Did you know that people actually write about that? Chickens and gardening, well, I’m no expert and I don’t follow the rules even though I read all the available books about chickens, they were impractical and unnecessary and I have had to find my own way. If people knew how relaxed I am with my chickens, well, lets not write about it. My chickens practically take care of themselves and I fill waterers and feeders and open and close doors at night and in the morning and we gather eggs. A child can do it. People write books about it, whole books, long books as though it’s a very important thing to write about. Gardening, well, I’m just learning about that and there is so very much to know and it changes all the time. I’m still reading up on it and learning from Grandpa and from our local farmers. I see gardens in people’s backyards and I’m jealous of them even though I have my own. “Look, they have a beautiful garden.” I say thinking about my own fenced off weed patch which delivers so much to our family in the way of food.

So it seems that I don’t really have anything to offer anyone that could pay a reward to me. I suppose I’m challenged now. Should I become interested in these topics? Should I foster an interest in the American lifestyle enough to write about it? Perhaps I should pretend I was given one of those assignments. Pick one and do my best with it. See what happens. Perhaps I should write about how you don’t need any of that advice at all and that you should just go with your best instincts and make sure that you love you own life just the way you are. Perhaps we should all just stop trying to do everything right and just do what’s best for yourselves and your families. Don’t send your kids to school if you don’t want to. Of course you have to get permission for that. Don’t participate in organized sports if you don’t want to. Don’t go around trying to get the edge on everyone else and don’t go making sure your kids are getting the edge either. Just make sure that they are getting enough sleep. Make sure they have lots of time for play. Make sure they are eating real food and drinking plenty of clean water. I don’t think that kind of writing would be readable never mind getting paid for it. People want to be told how to live. The next best way to do things. That’s why we have our Martha Stewarts. We wouldn’t have those kinds of key people if we weren’t trying to be taught how to make our beds and fold our sheets and what to do with stuff. We wouldn’t have a lot of key people and magazines if we weren’t trying to be like everyone else and know about everything else. I suppose you have to be a little bit interested in the rest of the world if you are going to sell any writing. Perhaps a lot interested. I suppose I should get an education. I’m sure it’s not too late. Or maybe I’ll just write everyday because I enjoy it and it’s an awesome therapy.

Elizabeth Williams, daily writing exercise, 1,012 words