A Writer’s Worth

Twenty-six bucks and change.

If you’re expecting a rant, go elsewhere. Cause, you’re not gonna get it here. I’m a changed woman. A woman who’s trying to “diversify.”

Scratch that. Stick around. Because, I’m pissed off right now. Pissed off and bummed out. As in, depressed as shit.

“Why’s that, Sherry?” Happy to tell you: I’m struggling. Struggling to keep going on this platform, as well as with my other “unpaid work.”

My recent Medium stats threw me for a loop. I wasn’t expecting a big payday, but twenty-six bucks and change? How is that even possible after nearly a year?

I think the most I’ve ever made here is $56. So, that said, I’m going downhill fast. Not the trajectory I was hoping for.

At the risk of sounding like a braggart — I know I’m a talented writer. And, there’s nothing wrong with tooting my own horn. Same with the rest of you folks. So, what’s the problem here? How have I failed?

Am I too controversial? Have I slammed the Orange Troll in the White House too many times? Have I not sufficiently slobbered over the curators the few times they recognized my efforts? Have I been too vocal about the shitty writers on Medium? You know the ones: Grammatically incorrect. Never heard of “punctuation,” i.e., they don’t know a comma from a coma. These writer wannabes who somehow manage to squirt out a draft every three minutes?

Should I be writing about sex, more? This is a tough one as I’m not sure what I’d bring to this particular table that hasn’t been brought before, ad nauseam. I’ve never been in a three-way, (that I can remember). Haven’t gotten busy with another chick. Nor do I want to. Actually, I haven’t gotten busy at all, lately, except with my Energizer-enhanced, purple friend. So, I guess “sex” is a bust. Wait — I DID write about having sex with an octopus. Done and done. You can read about it, here:

Do I not clap enough for other writers? I do my very best to read and clap for as many stories as possible, but, like everyone else, I have a life. Things to do. Although, I’m not on any kind of timetable other than the one I set for myself. It’s hard, when you’re dealing with anxiety and racing thoughts. The day goes by like a shot, and you’re left dealing with a sense that you’ve achieved nothing. That’s how I feel, anyway. So, my fellow writers, please know that I am doing my due diligence to give you the attention that, most of you, deserve.

Maybe, as Kristi Keller suggested, I should try “diversifying” my writing more. Although, I’m not sure how much more diverse I can get. But, we’ll see. Which brings me to a point I need to make: I am so greatful for the wonderful people I’ve met on Medium, some who are becoming true friends. So, there’s that.

To be fair, Medium is not the only place where, in my humble opinion, talented writers are often discounted:

In the entertainment industry, screenwriters, unless they’re A-listers, are routinely screwed. And, it’s getting harder and harder to break in, because production companies expect writers to come to them with “attachments” in place. Top talent, directors, etc. What the fuck? Isn’t that what a production company is for? This isn’t stopping me, though. I’ll be banging my thick head on Hollywood’s door until it bleeds. Or blows up.

Freelance writers are also, routinely screwed. Hourly rates are pitiful. For someone with my background and breadth of experience, fifty dollars per hour should be acceptable as a minimum — but I’m find that many companies don’t want to pay even that.

Why pay a freelancer when Lance, the IT guy down the hall, can “work something up.” Yeah. Everyone’s a writer. Or, thinks they are.

Enough pissing and moaning. Here comes the fun stuff: How do you think I should spend my $26? I’m thinking:

One really strong gummy. Like, knock me on my ass, strong.

Gas for my Fiat. A little goes a long way with this baby.

A bottle of Tito’s vodka. My payout, plus an extra four bucks, will get me the good stuff, for a change.

A Vibrating Head Massager. Touted as an “orgasm for the head.” I can see it now: This, for my head, and my purple friend…for my other, “head.” Ambidexterity, here I come! Literally!

Rainbow eye glasses. According to EIEspecial, “They refract white light into the visible light spectrum into about 8 directions. Best used at night, and actually they show different bits and pieces of the spectrum depending on the element which the source of light is made from, so consequently ‘green’ light bulbs with mercury look different than street lamps with phosphorous.” Hold up: What does this even mean? If they improve shitty night vision, I’m in.

Check it out: You can get twenty pairs of rainbow glasses for $12.50 on Amazon. Too early to tell, but this could be a strong contender.

Swiss Army Knife: Key-chain friendly. For all my cutting needs. If nothing else, this might elevate my “coolness quotient.”

Teeth-whitening charcoal powder. Been there, done that. I’m on the cutting edge. (As stated above.)

Two, maybe three “family packs” of chicken legs. Nah. Our freezer’s already stuffed with shit I’ll never make.

Three more Wet ‘n Wild highlighters? God forbid.

Use it toward self-publishing. I could write something like, “What to expect when you’re not expecting dick.”

I’m spent. Literally. So feel free to chime in with your own suggestions on how I can spend my $26 and change. All are welcome!

But, then again: Maybe I should sock the money away. Consider it a stepping stone to bigger things. Better things. A “thing” more worthy of who and what I am, as a writer, and, as a human being.

It’s something I need to figure out.

Sherry McGuinn is a longtime Chicago-area writer and award-winning screenwriter. Her work has appeared in The Chicago Tribune, Chicago Sun-Times and numerous other publications. Sherry’s manager is currently pitching her newest screenplay, a drama with dark, comedic overtones and inspired by a true story.

As always, thank you for reading. Looking for more:

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