My Plight/Life as a Writer

This was inspired by my lolligagging at “work” while I was watching Sex and the City and I was wondering for the thousandth time how exactly does Carrie Bradshaw live on the Upper East Side on a newspaper columnist’ salary.  Now my ex-bf said that pre-911,this was doable, but I don’t buy it. Or maybe I could buy it, but she has silly fashion obsessions where she’ll spend thousands upon thousands on shoes (and I’m still waiting on how “The Carrie Diaries” will foreshadow this.”)

So I went over to faithful Google and typed my thoughts in the form of a question. And the first thing that came up was a wonderful Buzzfeed article on how all the ways you’re not Carrie Bradshaw.  And some other blog post about how this girl never wanted to be Carrie and doesn’t know anyone who did either.  Which led me to yet another article on where NYC characters would actually be living at.  And Hannah Horvath came up, a character that I love and hate because I see too much of her Jewish neuroticism in my own life (which is only saw because I’m not a Jew) in my own personality.  And of course, I’m always drawn to writers, even if they’re fictional.  Actually, especially of they’re fictional.  I tend to scrutinize them with the same intensity as I do whenever I find out a show or movie’s been filmed in New York.

And I’ve also talked about other (white) fictional writers, but all of the others kind of got lucky with getting sweet writing deals, which always made me want to cry. How I’d love to write a semi expose of upper crust high school kids and make so much money I’d be able to rent a loft.  Or write about lesbians and snag a movie deal.

But Hannah is different.  She comes from a time where the print media is all but garbage and you have people on Craigslist posting that they’re starting a “magazine” and need writers. What they can’t pay you in you know, actual money, they’ll pay you with snacks or the warm fuzzy feeling of “experience.” As if that pays the bills. Or sometimes, it’s actual magazines! Part of me doesn’t understand why people think that those in “creative” fields will just happily work for free. As if we don’t have bills to pay and mouths to feed.

But screw Hannah for quitting a job at GQ because despite it being super cushy she didn’t want to be “stuck” there.  Like, girl, you work part time as a barista.  And Brooklyn. You better suck it up! I guess that’s what separates me from privileged folks. Because even though Hannah and those girls on 2
Broke Girls are poor, it’s still glamorous. And really Max? You don’t like that your boyfriend because he’s insanely wealthy and you gave him back a million dollars? Then again I guess it couldn’t be called 2 Broke Girls. 

Anyway, enough of my ranting on non-existent people.  Except that I kind of wish I could see a bit of realism when it comes to writing. Like I realized last year that I might not be able to make money writing novels. So maybe I should do articles. Or even do Buzzfeed.  But I don’t think my writing style is strong enough.  And my endings are atrocious.  I’m all over the place.  But such is life.

But I sorta kinda have a gig now that involves writing. And I can’t tell about it because it’s top secret (teehee !). But writing with a deadline is definitely different than writing for fun. Though I should swap the two because I often times don’t write as much as I should when it’s done “fun” and I don’t write with as much passion if I’m actually getting paid for it. Must find a balance. 

And now I’m going to eat Skinny Cow.  Here’s to horrible blog endings!


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