I’m going to start charging to proofread.

Maybe that’s rude of me…but I don’t care. I don’t know how many papers, resumes, personal statements I’ve proof read (proofread?) for history majors, future nursing/PA students, etc.

Don’t get me wrong, I love helping a friend, but now I’m just doing it to avoid writing. If I pick out all the flaws in someone else’s work, then maybe I’ll feel just a little bit better about my own? I mean after all, my thrilling middle-grade novel isn’t nearly as boring as this cover letter, right?

It’s getting to the point where I can’t lie to myself anymore. I’ll always keep proofreading, because it takes about ten minutes and I like to write in red, but I can’t keep using it as an excuse to put my own writing on hold. I keep dreaming about the day where writing isn’t just a hobby, but a job. And yet I’m not taking any strides to get there.

Sure I have a blog now, but I’m not going to make millions from putting my complaints in cyber-space. Not that making millions is the point…but you get what I mean.

The point is, I’m going to start charging per page, and more if there’s citations. I don’t mean to brag but, I’m strangely good at MLA. Weird, right? Not exactly something people consider a “strength.”

And the other point is, I’m going to take a step back from my book for a bit and focus on this Writer’s Digest Short Short Story Contest. I entered it last year and failed miserably, but I placed seventh in their script writing contest for a spec script of New Girl. Apparently I write better comedy than senseless drama. This year I’m going to take a whack at it again, and hopefully not be dreadfully ashamed of my piece.

Either way, I’m going to write. And that’s that.

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