Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Marketing . . . where writers go to die

I had dinner last night with three freakishly smart, unbelievably funny friends. We all worked together a while back at a kid's magazine and like to catch up and share any gossip about our former employer. Our employer was an eccentric nut job, and in the fall of 2000, we quit within a few months of eachother. After we quit we kind of felt like those left were stuck behind the Iron Curtain.

I love our little meet ups. It's inspiring to hang out with people whose talent you admire, and hope rubs off on you. One gal, author of this blog headline and more humble than a bakery that only sells humble pie, told us she has a book deal at work. "I only get royalties," she said. Are you kidding me? That's $#@! awesome, I say. Library of Congress. . . Amazon.com. . . she is so there. When it comes out, I will devote no less than 10 blogs to this book.

Our other pal shared that Sun-Times ran a blurb about his recent career move. Again, no big deal. No. Total big deal. And on top of all that moving and shaking, he found the time to grow a beard. Amazing.

So that left me. The jobless blogger who wonders what the statute of limitations is on being able to say "I'm freelancing" for when I'm done with one project and waiting on the next. And there's my kindred spirit, a science writer who has been freelancing for a few years now and says she's having a bit of a dryspell workwise, so she's been checking out perfume and makeup blogs. She made it downtown early before our meeting and had sampled several new scents at Lord and Taylor.

"Hey," I told her, "at least you smell pretty good."

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