I've kept a personal journal for over 20 years - before some people on Twitter could even hold a crayon. Before computers, I wrote by hand. When I could finally afford it, I bought a typewriter. There are stacks of notebooks in the attic filled with fading ink on yellowing paper – and I've never once looked back to read any of it. I've always used writing as a cathartic tool – to get my feelings out, and let them go. In fact, I fear going back to see how stupid I was about things. And how poorly I wrote. And to actually revisit some of the most emotional places in my life. But the one thing I can't escape is that I'm a writer. And I'll probably die broke because of it.
When I was about ten, I wrote a neighborhood newspaper. During the week I'd gather interesting stories from around the hood, and on the weekends I'd hand-scribe about a dozen double-sided loose leaf pages (with the exact same information.) Then I'd roll them into tubes, snap a rubber band around them and deliver them to my neighbors. This ended after my mother received cease and desist requests from other moms. It turned out I was a bit too candid with my reporting. But journalism was never my bag anyway. I was just bored – and needed the writing practice.
As an advertising copywriter, I now make a living by twisting ideas for companies that pay me to get people to think differently about things. Between the tedious administrative duties of an entrepreneur and learning the intricacies of Social Media as a marketing device – I've become pretty frustrated lately. I write a lot less and manage a lot more. Yes, I still keep a journal, but I'm beginning to wonder if I'm doing the right thing with my talent. I'm a writer, not an account executive or Social Media guru. My blog gets about 250 visits a day. Yes, I could turn this into ad revenue, but then I'd be no different than 95% of copycat bloggers who post nothing but regurgitated bullshit to satisfy advertisers and egos.
I'm a writer. An observer. And despite throwing myself into Social Media, I'm still something of a recluse. And yet I've managed to make a living with words. However meager. But when I start worrying about how to get people to come to my blog so I can turn those eyeballs into revenue and establish my status as a "thought leader" (in advertising or social media) – and I'm pulling my fucking hair out. I don't care about tips and tricks to get people to blogs so others can gain credibility and ad revenue. I don't. Really.
Sorry for rambling. I'm just not sure where I'm going with this post. I may take a long break from blogging, or maybe I'll parlay off of this chaos to ramp it up a notch. There's no telling. I just know that I'm a copywriter because I have a family to support, and I'm pretty good at it. And yes, I started writing ads when I ran my own newspaper at ten. But one day, I'm going to have to face my fears and tear open the past to figure out why the hell I'm really here.
Jim is a father, husband, copywriter and founder of smashcommunications. You can find him on Twitter @smashadv
Jeanne Veillette Bowerman
Oct 5, 2009
Sigh… I feel the same. I haven’t made any money writing, but the only time I’m truly happy is when my fingers are tapping the keyboard while sick, twisted plot ideas with complicated characters are flying out. I’m tired of being a whore to the day job. I also struggle with trying to set an example for my children to reach for their dreams, no matter how frustrating it gets. I don’t know what the answer is, but I know the answer is not “quit.” I write another day…
@jeannevb
Roger Hjulstrom
Oct 5, 2009
Very moving thoughts, Jim. My own experience with social media was with the original intent of using it to somehow help with my business of selling rare and unusual books. Hence the ‘booksbelow’. But I rarely even talk about my business anymore, on twitter or FB or in my blog. The writing in your attic might be cathartic, but maybe it’s more of the ‘if a tree falls in the forest and no-one’s there to hear it’ thing. I admire your ability to lay yourself open here!
Jim Mitchem
Oct 5, 2009
I once longed for an agency gig. Got it. It didn’t fit. Then I longed to be an entrepreneur. Got it. Fits – because it must. I’m lucky because I really love advertising, though I just question whether or not my mission in life is to sell real estate and soda pop. Surely there’s something more. That ache in our chest has to mean something, right?
Jim Mitchem
Oct 5, 2009
Until today, I just figured that I’d follow that ‘Confederacy of Dunces’ guy and hope my family benefits from the stuff in the attic after I’m dead. 😉 But somehow we’ve got to come back to that core reason we started in SM right? It’s got to tie back somehow.
Joseph Hughes
Oct 5, 2009
You know I’m a writer too. It’s the only thing I’ve ever managed to get paid for. But, like you, I write copy. Sometimes it drives me insane. I grow to hate the brands I’m supposed to be making likeable and desirable. Occasionally I’ve grown so angry at the process that I have actually ignored new business opportunities. But those are the bad days. The days when my jealously of ‘writers who write what they want to write’ is palpable. The good days are when I forget that I’m basically a salesperson with a fancy job title and remember the love of writing. On those days I can wax lyrical about anything from life insurance to tarmac – the writing takes over.
Again like you, I gave up agency life as it didn’t suit. I should have stopped years before I did. Now I sit alone in my home office, hammer away at my keyboard, dip in and out of Twitter and Facebook for some company and, somehow, manage to make enough money to pay the mortgage. ‘Would-be’ writers are quick to tell me how envious they are; that they would give up everything to be in my position. Okay, so they don’t know that copywriting is so much more than writing, but that’s when I think, “Thank fuck I’m a writer”.
I love the photo by the way ; )
Jim Mitchem
Oct 5, 2009
Thanks for that Joseph. You’re dead on.
My novel – Minor King
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