(This post was originally on my Tumblr page. I’m trying something new. If I get no work and no comments then I know I just made it more complicated and I’ll blame it, like all things, on my estrogen levels.)
I need to get this out of the way: If you are one of the people following me on Twitter, I love you. I mean it. Like, in the creepy way. Your Replies and Direct Messages and emails give me a reason to not close myself up in a washing machine and wait for sweet sudsy spinning death to come. Thank you. Sincerely.
And please don’t stop.
Scott Simpson, who might very well be the nicest human being I’ve ever met on the computer, gave me some advice regarding my recent conundrum of how the hell to monetize this blogging thing.
I’ve started hoping, in this kind of ridiculous way, that somebody out there in the interether would reach out and offer me a steady gig or a book deal. It’s in a similar way to when I wanted to be a milkman as a kid.
I was born in ‘81. There were no milkmen. Especially not on Long Island.
Scott’s advice was to capitalize on the intellectual property aspect, especially since a freelancer’s advertising opportunities are small at best and nonexistent on Tumblr.
I know, I know, I know Stuff White People Like got a fucking book deal motherfucking motherfuck. (In other news: Congratulations, guys. You do actually deserve it though I’m so jealous I could rip out my own tongue, write a fan letter on it, and mail it to you like a postcard.)
The internet has allowed the cult of personality to become a sort of elite club, where people like Kottke, the Nicks, that guy who likes the famous people, that chick with the accent, and countless others to become “bloggers.” For a living. They get paid to write and post on the internet and wear pajamas if they want. I want to wear pajamas for a living.
So I started thinking in the shower about what Scott wrote, about what I have to contribute to the Internet as a voice in the clamor, what IP I’ve got in the way of WPM. Here’s what I could come up with:
- A site giving advice on how to be a lesbian who cyber-stalks her male crush from college, moves across the country to be with him, and what not to do. The last part would include such revelatory tidbits like: How To Cry On A Trimet Bus, Why Making Out With Girls Is Bad Even If It’s Right In Front Of Your Boyfriend, “Fuck Me” Means Lots Of Stuff That You Didn’t Know It Meant, and Try Not To Move Back To New York. It would be like a new agey sort of blog. Uplifting.
- Your Late Twenties: Why They’re The Same As Your Teenage Years In The 90’s And Why That’s Probably Not A Good Thing — This one would be very dry. Think NewScientist only following the slow demise of Hot Topic stores, grunge, and working knee joints.
- GashDot. A site about not having your period. Trying to do that with Bitchcraft but moving and actual itty-bitty freelance jobs have sort of tripped me out of the Wicca starting gate.
- Riff off of Eve Ensler and create The Vagina Microblogs. Wait, no, I’ve already been doing this.
I’ve also been wondering if trying to market in different niches would work, for instance, instead of just saying that I will write anything at all for money, seriously instead start targeting actual markets, like record labels who need press kits or band bios, or tech enterprises that need success stories, or dirty old men who need erotica. Just infiltrate each market with an offer and a quote and a sample. How to go about doing this, though, is the question.
So, now that all my whining is out of the way, send me advice, work, or hate mail. Please. Life’s really fucking dull when you’ve got no work or hobbies other than finding burrito places to bike to and posting offensive drivel on Twitter.
Oh, and writing this stuff. This stuff is a hobby, too, I guess.
Completely unrelated to work, but completely related to my shower: the juxtaposition between my new apartment and my old one is astonishing. I had forgotten about doorstops actually existing. Also, lights? In the bathroom? Fuck, dude. And the kitchen has not only a stove but a spray nozzle attachment for the sink! How do you say luxury?
I expect to find an entire kiddie pool filled with jizz in my closet by tomorrow morning.
Pointless self-promotion. It’s as easy as
Oh, and here is Scott Simpson’s Tumblr page, your monkey called.
If, for whatever crazy reason, you want to read old posts go here. Otherwise I’ll slowly add them to this site somehow when I’m not busy completely losing my shit over the fact that I need to find a way to write for a living.