I’m ¾ of the way done my journalism degree and I’ve never actually sold my writing. I’ve eaten way more grilled cheese sandwiches in my three years of university then I’ve written articles, so maybe I should just be like a professional grilled cheese eater or something.
I’ve sold 50/50 tickets, and I currently sell MasterCard’s. I’ve sold lemonade for money in a little table by the side of the road, back when I was younger and cuter and could get away with selling cups of pop bottle lemonade for a dollar a piece. So I know how to sell stuff.
But here I am a little more than a year away from graduating, and the job I’m supposed to support myself with for the rest of my life, I’ve never made any money from.
It’s cold in my parents house but I’m sweating just thinking about it. Somehow my body can trick itself into sweating. I certainly hope it can do the same thing if I become homeless after graduation, that way when I sleep in Dundas Square in the winter time it won’t feel so cold.
Maybe I’m spending too much time convincing people to sign up for an MBNA rewards MasterCard at Raptors and Leafs games, and I should instead be sitting inside and pitching my articles to big news organizations in Toronto. I should probably be doing that 24 hours a day.
This one time I had a good story and I emailed four places but nobody responded. It was a big disappointment, so I sat inside that night and ate two grilled cheese sandwiches. As the grease dripped off my fingers I thought about what to eat next, and how nobody wanted to fork over a couple of hundred dollars and pay me for my writing. I’d even settle for a hundred. I’m not looking to get rich, just for a little bit of confidence to prove to myself that my writing is actually sellable.
Right now it’s fine, because the government of New Brunswick is kindly giving me lots and lots of money so I can afford tuition and rent. But I know come the end of fourth year, the money will stop coming and I will start getting those horrifying loan repayment letters in the mail. Maybe I can just rip up the letters into tiny little pieces and pretend I never got them. They’ll never find me, I can go live in the forest and change my name to Tree and be one with nature.
The point is it would be horrible to have spent four years of my life in school and be fifty thousand dollars in debt and still be working a minimum wage job.
There are people in my program who have internships at the Toronto Star, and here I am practically getting on my hands and knees and praying that someone, anyone will agree to pay for even one of my articles. At this point even a small gesture from Sportsnet or the Toronto Star of less than a dollar would suffice.
I don’t want to go to my high school reunion in if I’m still selling MasterCard’s. I don’t know what I expect really, that somehow when I graduate there’s going to be some dramatic change and I’ll be able to sell my writing?
I mean, writing and baseball are the sole two things that I’m good at, so if I can’t do either one of those things I think I’m seriously just going to change my name to Tree and go live in the woods by myself.
I’ve sold 50/50 tickets, and I currently sell MasterCard’s. I’ve sold lemonade for money in a little table by the side of the road, back when I was younger and cuter and could get away with selling cups of pop bottle lemonade for a dollar a piece. So I know how to sell stuff.
But here I am a little more than a year away from graduating, and the job I’m supposed to support myself with for the rest of my life, I’ve never made any money from.
It’s cold in my parents house but I’m sweating just thinking about it. Somehow my body can trick itself into sweating. I certainly hope it can do the same thing if I become homeless after graduation, that way when I sleep in Dundas Square in the winter time it won’t feel so cold.
Maybe I’m spending too much time convincing people to sign up for an MBNA rewards MasterCard at Raptors and Leafs games, and I should instead be sitting inside and pitching my articles to big news organizations in Toronto. I should probably be doing that 24 hours a day.
This one time I had a good story and I emailed four places but nobody responded. It was a big disappointment, so I sat inside that night and ate two grilled cheese sandwiches. As the grease dripped off my fingers I thought about what to eat next, and how nobody wanted to fork over a couple of hundred dollars and pay me for my writing. I’d even settle for a hundred. I’m not looking to get rich, just for a little bit of confidence to prove to myself that my writing is actually sellable.
Right now it’s fine, because the government of New Brunswick is kindly giving me lots and lots of money so I can afford tuition and rent. But I know come the end of fourth year, the money will stop coming and I will start getting those horrifying loan repayment letters in the mail. Maybe I can just rip up the letters into tiny little pieces and pretend I never got them. They’ll never find me, I can go live in the forest and change my name to Tree and be one with nature.
The point is it would be horrible to have spent four years of my life in school and be fifty thousand dollars in debt and still be working a minimum wage job.
There are people in my program who have internships at the Toronto Star, and here I am practically getting on my hands and knees and praying that someone, anyone will agree to pay for even one of my articles. At this point even a small gesture from Sportsnet or the Toronto Star of less than a dollar would suffice.
I don’t want to go to my high school reunion in if I’m still selling MasterCard’s. I don’t know what I expect really, that somehow when I graduate there’s going to be some dramatic change and I’ll be able to sell my writing?
I mean, writing and baseball are the sole two things that I’m good at, so if I can’t do either one of those things I think I’m seriously just going to change my name to Tree and go live in the woods by myself.