So, guess what I'm figuring out? Freelance writing is hard work. Ok, I see you all seasoned freelancers slapping your foreheads and groaning. Of course it's hard work, you say! Nevertheless, I admit I initially subscribed to the "I Can Write Fast So I'll Make A Ton Of Money In No Time" school of thought.
Thankfully, the rainbow is gone and the dancing leprechaun at my feet revealed himself to be a Reality Gnome. I've got it now. This career choice is danged hard.
My Freelance Experience
I've been working as a freelance writer for about a year now. I started out writing articles (for dirt cheap) on a website called Textbroker. Textbroker was a great place for me to start because it provided me with simple articles to write and didn't require any sort of bid process. It's just first come, first served. Eventually, I graduated to Elance. And that's where I've parked my derriere for the time being. Elance is great, and for now, it is providing me with most of the work I need. There is still room for growth, of course, and I've got other plans for developing my own personal brand... but that's going to take time.
Wanna Know A Secret?
I spend about an hour each day reading some great blogs about writing, freelance writing, marketing, social media, and SEO principles. One thing I've noticed, there doesn't seem to be a lot of blogs about getting your foot IN THE DOOR of the freelance community. I'm going to add a few posts for the next few weeks about my experiences with Elance and Textbroker, and offer some tips to those who are considering the industry.
To my readers: if you have been considering pursuing some ventures that will provide you with a little extra income each month, I encourage you to try Elance. Keep checking back for my insider secrets about how I found jobs, wrote successful bids, and kept my clients coming back for more!
Sign up for ELANCE today: it's easy and free!
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Monday, July 25, 2011
First Meetings
No, this post isn't about the Orson Scott Card book. What? You don't know who Orson Scott Card is? SHAME on you!! Ender's Game, look it up. Buy it, borrow it, check it out.
No, this post (shamelessly overdue) is about my family's new dog. Tonight via Skype, Jill and I met Frank. A few weeks ago, my parents were forced to send one of my chocolate labs to join Charlie, Old Dan, Little Ann, and Old Yeller in that strange and wonderful paradise devoted to man's best friend. Claude was her name. Her liver basically shut down without warning, and keeping her alive would have been cruel. So closed one of the most cherished chapters of my life.
Tonight, I met the new dog that was chosen as a companion to Claude's sister, Cleo. Whoever says dogs are dumb or emotionless obviously hasn't witnessed a puppy who has lost her lifelong friend. Cleo was depressed, lethargic, and unresponsive. Was. Frank, the adorable Rottweiler mix, has completely changed all of that. I know that this dog will never know me the way Claude did. I'll only be able to meet him through sporadic visits to St. Louis. He will never stare at me adoringly as I make a turkey sandwich (hmmm... maybe it was the turkey sandwich that was getting stared at), he'll never curl up at my feet and breathe that sigh of contentment that only dogs have perfected, and he'll never pull his ears back and wag his tail when I come for a visit as if the world is once again complete.
He may never do that, I know. But he's there. In my old home. Comforting my lonely dog Cleo. Bringing joy to my parents who I miss. Watching over things while I am two hundred miles away. And for that, I already love him.
Too bad his name is Frank, short for Franklin. That was going to be the name of my first son. Whoops.
No, this post (shamelessly overdue) is about my family's new dog. Tonight via Skype, Jill and I met Frank. A few weeks ago, my parents were forced to send one of my chocolate labs to join Charlie, Old Dan, Little Ann, and Old Yeller in that strange and wonderful paradise devoted to man's best friend. Claude was her name. Her liver basically shut down without warning, and keeping her alive would have been cruel. So closed one of the most cherished chapters of my life.
Tonight, I met the new dog that was chosen as a companion to Claude's sister, Cleo. Whoever says dogs are dumb or emotionless obviously hasn't witnessed a puppy who has lost her lifelong friend. Cleo was depressed, lethargic, and unresponsive. Was. Frank, the adorable Rottweiler mix, has completely changed all of that. I know that this dog will never know me the way Claude did. I'll only be able to meet him through sporadic visits to St. Louis. He will never stare at me adoringly as I make a turkey sandwich (hmmm... maybe it was the turkey sandwich that was getting stared at), he'll never curl up at my feet and breathe that sigh of contentment that only dogs have perfected, and he'll never pull his ears back and wag his tail when I come for a visit as if the world is once again complete.
He may never do that, I know. But he's there. In my old home. Comforting my lonely dog Cleo. Bringing joy to my parents who I miss. Watching over things while I am two hundred miles away. And for that, I already love him.
Too bad his name is Frank, short for Franklin. That was going to be the name of my first son. Whoops.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Hannah, Haggadah, and Hard Rock
Went to The Hard Rock cafe for the first time in my life (I think) this weekend. All in all, I'd say I was impressed up to but not exceeding my expectations. This is probably due to my thoroughly miserable knowledge of rock musicians. I can name the top three highest-selling rock artists of all time: The Beatles, Elvis Presley, Michael Jackson (did you know that), but my rock knowledge comes to a screeching halt immediately after that particular morsel.
So, Hard Rock. There I stood, surrounded by guitars and records signed by people I'm sure were famous, but nevertheless clueless about my surroundings. That's what I get for marrying into a family of musical prodigies. It's a good thing the man doesn't have to take the woman's name when he gets married... I never would have passed the Shackelford Entrance Examination for World Domination Through Musical Trivia Knowledge.
All in all, I prefer Planet Hollywood. I can appreciate the slab of meat that Rocky worked out with, Leia's gold bikini, and the E.T. bicycle a lot more than a Les Paul signed by Billy Gibbons.
I had to look up that guy's name and what guitar he plays. Sigh.
Monday night, the Thurch gang recreated the traditional Passover feast. We wanted to go with all the traditional elements of Passover. If you didn't know, each part of the Passover meal represents a specific topic or idea that is supposed to be meditated on as you eat or drink it. Naturally, I went to a Passover website to look up Passover recipes. How exactly do they prepare the lamb these days?
Apparently, any gosh darn way you want. I saw a recipe for a Kosher beer battered lamb steak. I'm not even kidding. I decided to throw together a quick dry rub because, hey, we're not Jewish and there's no since wasting good lamb by not seasoning it properly.
So, we all sat down on the floor on some cushions, Cullen read the Haggadah, and after three glasses of Kosher wine (translation: liquid skittles), some bitter herbs (translation: parsley), some charoset (translation: apples, raisins and honey), and a platter full of lamb (translation: awesome), we had ourselves a traditional Passover celebration. Mazeltov!
One more thing. I just remembered (after watching The Biggest Loser tonight. No spoilers Tori, I promise!) that Jill and I saw a special somebody jogging down Old Hickory Blvd on Sunday morning. Yeah, it was Hannah from the Biggest Loser. We are 85% positive. If I'd had enough time to react I would've stuck my head out the sun roof and screamed at the top of my lungs. Go Hannah, Olivia, and Irene!!
Tori, dahling, break a leg in Spring Sing this weekend. You blow my mind up with helium and then suck my brains out and talk in a funny high-pitched voice. Er... I mean. You blow my mind. I should have probably just stopped there.
Awkward.
So, Hard Rock. There I stood, surrounded by guitars and records signed by people I'm sure were famous, but nevertheless clueless about my surroundings. That's what I get for marrying into a family of musical prodigies. It's a good thing the man doesn't have to take the woman's name when he gets married... I never would have passed the Shackelford Entrance Examination for World Domination Through Musical Trivia Knowledge.
All in all, I prefer Planet Hollywood. I can appreciate the slab of meat that Rocky worked out with, Leia's gold bikini, and the E.T. bicycle a lot more than a Les Paul signed by Billy Gibbons.
I had to look up that guy's name and what guitar he plays. Sigh.
Monday night, the Thurch gang recreated the traditional Passover feast. We wanted to go with all the traditional elements of Passover. If you didn't know, each part of the Passover meal represents a specific topic or idea that is supposed to be meditated on as you eat or drink it. Naturally, I went to a Passover website to look up Passover recipes. How exactly do they prepare the lamb these days?
Apparently, any gosh darn way you want. I saw a recipe for a Kosher beer battered lamb steak. I'm not even kidding. I decided to throw together a quick dry rub because, hey, we're not Jewish and there's no since wasting good lamb by not seasoning it properly.
So, we all sat down on the floor on some cushions, Cullen read the Haggadah, and after three glasses of Kosher wine (translation: liquid skittles), some bitter herbs (translation: parsley), some charoset (translation: apples, raisins and honey), and a platter full of lamb (translation: awesome), we had ourselves a traditional Passover celebration. Mazeltov!
One more thing. I just remembered (after watching The Biggest Loser tonight. No spoilers Tori, I promise!) that Jill and I saw a special somebody jogging down Old Hickory Blvd on Sunday morning. Yeah, it was Hannah from the Biggest Loser. We are 85% positive. If I'd had enough time to react I would've stuck my head out the sun roof and screamed at the top of my lungs. Go Hannah, Olivia, and Irene!!
Tori, dahling, break a leg in Spring Sing this weekend. You blow my mind up with helium and then suck my brains out and talk in a funny high-pitched voice. Er... I mean. You blow my mind. I should have probably just stopped there.
Awkward.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Thurch
It's a beautiful day... don't let it get away. What you don't have you don't need it now...
Wow I love that U2 song. And today WAS beautiful. Perfect weather; it even smelled pretty outside according to Jillian.
Today, Jill and I FINALLY put some stuff up on our poor, lonely apartment walls. We hung a mirror and two sconces in the dining room, and put a makeshift mantel over our fireplace in the form of a shelf with some pictures and vases on it.
Side note: did you know that M-A-N-T-L-E refers to a cape-like garment or the layer above the earth's core and M-A-N-T-E-L refers to the decorative portion around a fireplace? Yeah neither did I until I just looked it up.
So after Jill and I wrestled with tape measures, nails, screws, a drill and a hammer, we had our weekly get-together with some of our greatest Nashvillian friends. Thursday nights are bible study nights (actually, I think we've decided to call it Thurch), and I absolutely love them.
Next week we are starting Rob Bell's new book Love Wins, and we are all really excited about it. Tonight we decided to share one thing we were all dealing with and pray for each other daily. I can't wait to see what's going to happen with everyone's unique situation.
We had a small problem after Thurch where Brett decided to insult Julia Roberts and Sandra Bullock in the same sentence, but Linzi lit his hair on fire and the party broke up soon after that.
All in all, great day. Excited to see my in-laws this weekend. Hope everyone has a great Friday and beyond!
Wow I love that U2 song. And today WAS beautiful. Perfect weather; it even smelled pretty outside according to Jillian.
Today, Jill and I FINALLY put some stuff up on our poor, lonely apartment walls. We hung a mirror and two sconces in the dining room, and put a makeshift mantel over our fireplace in the form of a shelf with some pictures and vases on it.
Side note: did you know that M-A-N-T-L-E refers to a cape-like garment or the layer above the earth's core and M-A-N-T-E-L refers to the decorative portion around a fireplace? Yeah neither did I until I just looked it up.
So after Jill and I wrestled with tape measures, nails, screws, a drill and a hammer, we had our weekly get-together with some of our greatest Nashvillian friends. Thursday nights are bible study nights (actually, I think we've decided to call it Thurch), and I absolutely love them.
Next week we are starting Rob Bell's new book Love Wins, and we are all really excited about it. Tonight we decided to share one thing we were all dealing with and pray for each other daily. I can't wait to see what's going to happen with everyone's unique situation.
We had a small problem after Thurch where Brett decided to insult Julia Roberts and Sandra Bullock in the same sentence, but Linzi lit his hair on fire and the party broke up soon after that.
All in all, great day. Excited to see my in-laws this weekend. Hope everyone has a great Friday and beyond!
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
60 Degrees and Sunny...check
A wise man once said "to feed the body's compulsions is to starve the soul."
Actually, no one ever said that. I just made that up. Impressed? I thought you would be. So since no wise person (except TravWise) ever said that about feeding the body's compulsions, I'm just going to go ahead and feed one of mine:
List making. Oh yes, you know how it goes. That inescapable feeling that your life is a chaotic jumble that can only be relieved by filling pads of paper with lists of to-dos and neatly checking them off one by one. You know you want to make one, now. But wait. Read mine first. Then when you make your own, you can write "Slake my thirst for the incredibly stimulating written word by reading a delightfully creative blog."
Check.
Travis's Tuesday To-Dos:
Wake up and shower immediately: check.
Sit on the porch and note the cloudless sky: check.
Revel in the fact that it is too chilly for the wasps to be out: check.
Finish a huge project with a much-needed payout: check.
Read some literary agent blogs: check.
Watch elementary school kids get into fight outside my apartment: check.
Note that there is still hope in the world when angry fighting elementary school child spells A-S-S instead of saying it: check.
Watch Jill take a nap: check.
Make a barbecue meatloaf, cheesy garlic mashed potatoes and coleslaw for dinner: check +2 points for the yum factor.
Watch The Biggest Loser: check.
Tear up when Courtney went home: (Private)
Watch Cupcake Wars with Jill: check.
Vocally berate Asian girl who wins Cupcake Wars: check.
Blog: check.
Ahhhh... slaked.
Actually, no one ever said that. I just made that up. Impressed? I thought you would be. So since no wise person (except TravWise) ever said that about feeding the body's compulsions, I'm just going to go ahead and feed one of mine:
List making. Oh yes, you know how it goes. That inescapable feeling that your life is a chaotic jumble that can only be relieved by filling pads of paper with lists of to-dos and neatly checking them off one by one. You know you want to make one, now. But wait. Read mine first. Then when you make your own, you can write "Slake my thirst for the incredibly stimulating written word by reading a delightfully creative blog."
Check.
Travis's Tuesday To-Dos:
Wake up and shower immediately: check.
Sit on the porch and note the cloudless sky: check.
Revel in the fact that it is too chilly for the wasps to be out: check.
Finish a huge project with a much-needed payout: check.
Read some literary agent blogs: check.
Watch elementary school kids get into fight outside my apartment: check.
Note that there is still hope in the world when angry fighting elementary school child spells A-S-S instead of saying it: check.
Watch Jill take a nap: check.
Make a barbecue meatloaf, cheesy garlic mashed potatoes and coleslaw for dinner: check +2 points for the yum factor.
Watch The Biggest Loser: check.
Tear up when Courtney went home: (Private)
Watch Cupcake Wars with Jill: check.
Vocally berate Asian girl who wins Cupcake Wars: check.
Blog: check.
Ahhhh... slaked.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
It's a bird... It's a plane...
Jennifer Gresham posted another great article at Copyblogger this morning:
Heretics, Superheroes, and Fighting the Lonely War of the Writer.
Wait, did she just compare writers to Superheroes? Yes. Does she know what comparing me to Batman will likely do to my ego? Probably not. Is she, regardless, now my most favorite person on the face of this planet? Yes.
Of course, she also said that writers are sometimes considered heretics... not nearly as glorious a concept. But hey, if that's what it takes to get my name out there and to get people reading the stuff I come up with, I'll take it. After all, Batman was misunderstood, yes sir. So, to boost my confidence (and to feed an incessant desire I have to blur the distinction between myself and The Dark Knight), I've compiled a list of the top 10 reasons why Batman's real identity is probably... me.
1. Neither of us likes cats.
2. We both prefer to stay up late and sleep in mornings.
3. We both wear Batman underwear (hey, if Batman wears underwear, then they are automatically considered "Batman underwear." Logic, people)
4. We both use our intellect before our muscles (or in lieu of)
5. We both prefer brunettes.
6. We both do most of our day-job work on the top floor (Wayne Enterprises/ My Apartment)
7. Neither of us wants to live strictly by the rule book.
8. Batman has Alfred. My vacuum cleaner is named Alfred.
9. Both our heart rates accelerate when we see the Bat Symbol.
10. We both want to change the world.
So, yes, I can see her point. Writers are like superheroes. We are isolated, moody, often considered heretics, misunderstood, and we walk among you, donning our secret identities because if you knew that we were actually "writers," you'd probably ask to read our work.
And then, you'd hate all over it.
Heretics, Superheroes, and Fighting the Lonely War of the Writer.
Wait, did she just compare writers to Superheroes? Yes. Does she know what comparing me to Batman will likely do to my ego? Probably not. Is she, regardless, now my most favorite person on the face of this planet? Yes.
Of course, she also said that writers are sometimes considered heretics... not nearly as glorious a concept. But hey, if that's what it takes to get my name out there and to get people reading the stuff I come up with, I'll take it. After all, Batman was misunderstood, yes sir. So, to boost my confidence (and to feed an incessant desire I have to blur the distinction between myself and The Dark Knight), I've compiled a list of the top 10 reasons why Batman's real identity is probably... me.
1. Neither of us likes cats.
2. We both prefer to stay up late and sleep in mornings.
3. We both wear Batman underwear (hey, if Batman wears underwear, then they are automatically considered "Batman underwear." Logic, people)
4. We both use our intellect before our muscles (or in lieu of)
5. We both prefer brunettes.
6. We both do most of our day-job work on the top floor (Wayne Enterprises/ My Apartment)
7. Neither of us wants to live strictly by the rule book.
8. Batman has Alfred. My vacuum cleaner is named Alfred.
9. Both our heart rates accelerate when we see the Bat Symbol.
10. We both want to change the world.
So, yes, I can see her point. Writers are like superheroes. We are isolated, moody, often considered heretics, misunderstood, and we walk among you, donning our secret identities because if you knew that we were actually "writers," you'd probably ask to read our work.
And then, you'd hate all over it.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Werewolf Bar Mitzvah...
I've had that stupid/hilarious song from 30 Rock in my head all morning. You know, the one Tracy Jordan recorded and won an award with:
Werewolf Bar Mitzvah, Spooky, Scary
Boys becoming men, men becoming wolves...
Haha. My friends Andrea and Caleb gave us the first three seasons of 30 Rock. They're 30 Rock evangelists, I guess you could say. And I'm proud to report that I'm a born-again convert.
I resisted watching that blasted show for years because I was determined to hate Alec Baldwin. I'm not sure why. I think it was a noble attempt to bring a little balance to my typical obsession with celebrity. I am far too fascinated with the lives of the A-Listers, and I thought if I could passionately hate one, just one, celebrity, that would balance my life out.
Well, dang you, Alec for making me love you. Now I have to find another celebrity to loathe so that my life can once again be balanced. I've been throwing out names all day, but am unable to let go of my admiration for stars such as Bruce Willis, Harrison Ford, Leo D, and Johnny Depp...
Wait, I've got it. George Clooney. He ruined Batman, he's shmarmy, his skin is too tan. Perfect.
I hate you, George Clooney. Please don't be in a sitcom that I'll love.
Werewolf Bar Mitzvah, Spooky, Scary
Boys becoming men, men becoming wolves...
Haha. My friends Andrea and Caleb gave us the first three seasons of 30 Rock. They're 30 Rock evangelists, I guess you could say. And I'm proud to report that I'm a born-again convert.
I resisted watching that blasted show for years because I was determined to hate Alec Baldwin. I'm not sure why. I think it was a noble attempt to bring a little balance to my typical obsession with celebrity. I am far too fascinated with the lives of the A-Listers, and I thought if I could passionately hate one, just one, celebrity, that would balance my life out.
Well, dang you, Alec for making me love you. Now I have to find another celebrity to loathe so that my life can once again be balanced. I've been throwing out names all day, but am unable to let go of my admiration for stars such as Bruce Willis, Harrison Ford, Leo D, and Johnny Depp...
Wait, I've got it. George Clooney. He ruined Batman, he's shmarmy, his skin is too tan. Perfect.
I hate you, George Clooney. Please don't be in a sitcom that I'll love.
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