In my recent post about writing packages, I mentioned some that I was proud of—and a couple of others that were, well, just gigs.
When fanny packs and sport sandals first came out about 15 years ago, I managed to become the world’s leading authority on both, at least among journalists. (Lots of people who actually made the bags or the sandals knew a lot more than I did, but they didn’t write for Outside magazine.)
I was the fanny-pack king. Anyone who wanted a story on fanny packs came to me. I kept chuckling as I analyzed their materials, stays, zippers, and load-control features—all the way to the bank.
I was Mr. Sport Sandal. I illuminated nuances of tread and cushioning materials, strap systems, and the proper pronunciation of “Teva.” (Not TEE-va!)
Too proud to write about fanny packs, or footwear for river rats? I bet I made 10 grand on fanny packs and Tevas over the course of a few years.
If you’re too proud to write about something prosaic that you happen know quite a bit about, get over yourself. If you want to make it as a freelance writer, or make a few bucks as a freelance writer, you might need to swallow some high-falutin’ pride and just write the damn thing.
Obviously that doesn’t include violating your moral and ethical scruples. Otherwise, if you think the check will clear, write the story.
And don’t just be open to oddball ideas. Seek them out. Create them. The silly ones just might stick out from the eyeball-glazing blather that editors sort through every day. 15 Root Beers that Changed the World. The Untold Story Behind Jujubes. How Llamas Will Cure the Recession. The World’s Best Unsurfable Beaches.
Just making these up, folks. But that reminds me: Chapter 2 of my book, Write Where the Money Is, is titled How to Become an Idea-Generating Machine. Check it out. Become one.
Parting shot—remember the eternal musicians’ credo: A gig’s a gig.
