Day Eight: On Money

I hate money. I do. I hate it so much that if someone asked, and it was viably possible,I would just give away all my money. But, sadly and apparently, I need this stupid exchange of dollars to exist in this world.

When did it become so expensive just to exist?

Currently I’m living off the grid and therefore very cheaply and at the generosity of others, but it feels like I had to give up every aspect of my life to do so and even then… I’m barely scraping by. Why? Just because the goal I happened to be pursuing is one people pay retroactively for? Because I couldn’t handle putting away all the parts of myself that I loved best in favor of the parts of me that someone was willing to pay for?

People pay me for my time, but if I could buy anything with my money, I’d buy my time back. I don’t want to save for the future. I don’t know who I’ll be in the future. I know who I am now. I want to live my life now. I am never going to have more use for my time than I do now at 23. I’m not getting any younger/more hopeful/more determined. Now almost feels like my last chance.

But after taking a big hit on my mother’s birthday financially, I finally gave in though and applied for a few childcare jobs, but found myself cringing every time someone talked about committing to a regular schedule and open hours. I am so tired of being paid to be at someone’s beck and call. I can’t really do this whole project at that rate. It would take me forever. But I guess they’re right when they say, “Don’t quit your day-job.”

So, after finding some encouraging resources for writers in the Writer’s Market I now worship at the altar of, I decided to check a few of them out. There are some wonderful people out there who really want to support the writing community and bring out some hidden potential in the literary community (specifically THEIR literary community and let me tell you backwoods Central Florida does NOT have a literary community so that’s out). There’s this Awesome Foundation that seems very cool, albeit a bit outside my specific realm for this project. I think if I ever get rich I would just give my money away to young writers. I’d like people to have the chance to peruse what I’m aiming for too.

So I applied for ALL OF THE MONEY and am now VERY RICH! Yay! The. End.

Not.

I have a very serious question for you guys: If someone is applying to recieve money from you, a private grant, or for a contest that would award (not even a lot of, really) money, why would you charge them $80 to enter? Geesh! If I applied to even one of those, then I wouldn’t be eating for the next two weeks. Someone is making money here and I don’t think it’s the writers.

I think what I’ve learned more than anything by this exercise is that the literary community is crazy exclusive.

I can’t apply to your contest because I haven’t paid membership fees for the past year? Then who are you ACTUALLY awarding this money to? People that already have extra cash? What about the people that need it most? I don’t fit into these subsets of specialty writers. I’m just a young girl trying to write a story for children because it’s all I love to do. Why doesn’t that measure up for anybody? Why can’t I get paid, not a lot, just enough to make that possible, for that?

Since when did it become so expensive to do what makes you happy?

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