i've been job searching all DAY!!! and there's nobody anywhere whose got a position for a columnist or review writer that actually pays real, non-imaginary money. 
hrrmmm
at least, none that don't seem like they would just be depressing to even apply for (so maybe it's more my fault.. grr anyway)
-----
ok, read something here that I authentically found on a goddamn writers-resource site:
"Needs 'big' hard sf, written by someone with credentials. Think Clark, Benford.
Also need epic fantasy, large-scale writer (or a man with a male protagonist). Think Robert Jordan, David Eddings. ...
Seeing too much:
Adventure/Fantasy written by woman, with female protagonists. There's a market for this but it's not a huge one. "
---
ok, that's The Berkeley Publishing Group (located in New York, strangely) and it's goddamn listed on authorlink.com. I couldn't hardly believe it. that was really bruising to find... and i thought to myself (after i had flipped off the screen a few dozen times and undergone a fit of snarling and growling) "THIS is why i've been looking on all the indie sites run by people who can't pay me but who want submissions about queer-activism and tranny-erotica"
grrr... maybe i'll end up doing something worth doing or at least that doesn't make me feel ill.. even if it means i'll be working at burger king during the day so i can afford to....
(i looked at my list of bookmarks at the end of the day and, yes, almost none were of the nauseating corporate pay-to-post/pay-to-join job sites, and friggin all were the impoverished "yay for counterculture!" "yay for lesbian porn!" "yay for activist international herbivorous minority-rights queer-rights unheard-of artists and grunge bands!" things that seem like i could actually write something entertaining for them, maybe draw a comic or two for them... yeeks i am SO gonna be workin for burger king..)
but as soon as i make my indie-grunge-rockstar-fortune i am sending a hitman to smash in the car windows of whoever it is runs that berkely publishing group and gave me a heart attack today
now i'm gonna have some zin and watch the story of O and chill my little head out
hrrmmm
at least, none that don't seem like they would just be depressing to even apply for (so maybe it's more my fault.. grr anyway)
-----
ok, read something here that I authentically found on a goddamn writers-resource site:
"Needs 'big' hard sf, written by someone with credentials. Think Clark, Benford.
Also need epic fantasy, large-scale writer (or a man with a male protagonist). Think Robert Jordan, David Eddings. ...
Seeing too much:
Adventure/Fantasy written by woman, with female protagonists. There's a market for this but it's not a huge one. "
---
ok, that's The Berkeley Publishing Group (located in New York, strangely) and it's goddamn listed on authorlink.com. I couldn't hardly believe it. that was really bruising to find... and i thought to myself (after i had flipped off the screen a few dozen times and undergone a fit of snarling and growling) "THIS is why i've been looking on all the indie sites run by people who can't pay me but who want submissions about queer-activism and tranny-erotica"
grrr... maybe i'll end up doing something worth doing or at least that doesn't make me feel ill.. even if it means i'll be working at burger king during the day so i can afford to....
(i looked at my list of bookmarks at the end of the day and, yes, almost none were of the nauseating corporate pay-to-post/pay-to-join job sites, and friggin all were the impoverished "yay for counterculture!" "yay for lesbian porn!" "yay for activist international herbivorous minority-rights queer-rights unheard-of artists and grunge bands!" things that seem like i could actually write something entertaining for them, maybe draw a comic or two for them... yeeks i am SO gonna be workin for burger king..)
but as soon as i make my indie-grunge-rockstar-fortune i am sending a hitman to smash in the car windows of whoever it is runs that berkely publishing group and gave me a heart attack today
now i'm gonna have some zin and watch the story of O and chill my little head out
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