Photograph: William Perugini/Getty Images
As a journalist, I often have days when I just work for my employer. A story is assigned to me, I write professionally, impersonally, efficiently – and then I have days when I write for myself; I choose what I want to say and how, and who to send it to for publication.
One is productive. It consistently results in published work and payment. The other is hit and miss. Rejection and self-doubt abound. On those days, it’s tempting to procrastinate – take walks, do chores, text friends, read books ... Even when I write a story that I’m happy with, I can’t always give it an ideal home. But sometimes – just often enough to make this crazy caper feel worthwhile – I can.
