Apart from constantly checking my Ebay page (a topic which I’ll be dedicating a post to one of these days) I spent most of the day applying for online jobs I can do along with my current job. I’ve become so efficient with my main job that I can finish my daily output under 2 hours. And strangely enough its this recent addiction for winning Ebay auctions on retired old toys that has become my main motivation to level up my work output and my monthly income (ahh, toy money).
It was only recently that I’d appreciated the work that I do and the skill that I have in writing. I’ve been writing for as long as I know, and a lot of the work I’ve done the past five years of working had a lot to do with writing. Case studies, project reports. Articles, press releases. Reviews and e-books. I used to define myself as “a writer”, practically because it’s my bread and butter. And modesty aside, I know I’m pretty good at it.
For the longest time “writer” has been my default endpoint or telos or what have you. I’m good at it, I thought, so this ought to be my focus in life. Mark Ponce, the writer. I know that one of my friends, Mo, sees writing in this light; she loves writing, and she’s really put in a lot of work refining her style. A number of her fiction’s been published in magazines and she’s attended a lot of workshops. Plus, unlike most of the people I know who spent their early twenties jumping between jobs, Mo’s been a copywriter since we graduated, working for the same company. She loves her job and she loves writing–it’s what she’s always wanted to do. She’d probably continue working even if she didn’t get paid for it.
I think I’ve gone far along with work and employment to realize that I don’t have that head-over-heels love for writing the Mo does. There were a couple of attempts on my part to see if “writer” is what I’d want myself to be defined as–I got one of my stories published in an anthology 3 years ago, and there have been attempts to get into workshops which Mo attended. Then again, it’s never been something I wanted, and it’s never really been a priority.
Mo has never stopped bugging me about taking writing seriously. She says that I write well and that I’m wasting the “talent” that I have. But again, it’s never been my priority to get into the whole “writer” thing she’s in.
Just because you’re good at something doesn’t mean it’s what defines you; take a look at Zohan–the Mossad super-spy who actually wanted to be a cosmetologist. It’s not that I’m not happy with my job. My job is terrific–it just requires me to work two hours a day at home! The point is I’ve long realized that my job is not where I derive my happiness from. My skill in writing and my current job are ennablers, tools I have that I use to get me the things I want and where I want to be.
For example:
Last week I used the cash I made writing a couple of articles I did to buy my sister some nice pricey running shoes–in an effort to give her a push towards the healthy lifestyle and to get her to quit smoking. That bunch of articles just took me around three hours to make.
I’m planning to take up a Master’s course, hopefully in two months time, to help me review for that next year’s Foreign Service Exam, just in case I don’t make it through the written exam I took two weeks ago. I can afford to do this because I’m not stuck in an office the way most people are. (I didn’t push through with a nice USAID job because I’d be leashed to an office if I did.)
I’ve started salivating over some really expensive toys, which prompted me to look for some writing to do.
When I feel bad, or if my thoughts are all a-jumble, I write.
Writing. It is not the end, but a means to my goals. It’s the vehicle I use to get to my destination. I’m good at it, but it defines me not. I like writing… I may even love it sometimes, but it isn’t something I’d see as a career or something I’d see myself doing in the next five years.
The skill is like a piece of sky-metal that I was lucky enough to find. Sky-metal with magical properties to turn into a particular tool to suit my current need. When an Orc comes my way it turns into a battle-axe. When the garden needs tending, it shifts into a spade. As I fall from a cliff while climbing to the top of the world, it becomes a beautiful pick-axe.
I do not worship the sky-metal, nor am I under its thrall. I am however fascinated by it endlessly as it helps me conquer the world, one phrase at a time
***
Let’s talk about Orcs.
Like I’ve said, I spent the whole day looking at job postings for home-based writers–potential sources of good money. As I went along I found myself shocked at the rates foreign companies pay for articles; some go as low as P30 for 500 words. I know they’re looking for cheap labor, but those rates are preposterous. I pity those people who even bother to work at these rates–it reeks of desperation and, I hope I’m mistaken here, a disregard for quality work.
I was paid a pretty amount of P1000 per 300 word article by some American guy putting up a site. I know I did my articles in record time, but damn, every word was worth his penny. I would also like to argue that that was his proposed rate to begin with… not mine.
Anyway, I was looking at job postings today, sending out my CV and sample work, as well as my rates when its asked for (which I based on the abovementioned rate)–when I run into an Orc.
There was a site owner who wanted articles done for her site who had asked for my rate, and apparently she was surprised with the amount I typed in. I figure this is a normal reaction considering most of the people who post job ads in the site I went through offer to pay P50/400-word article (again, the amount is just inhumane). I think she’s American since she asked me to convert the peso amount to its dollars equivalent.
So what happened was, the site owner consulted her Filipino co-owner, probably to confirm the rate that I gave her. Which again, I believe would strike anyone posting an ad at the site as incredibly overpriced. On my end though, shit I’ve been paid that amount before so am setting that as my baseline. If you don’t like my rate, nobody asking you to hire me, right? I’ll leave it to laissez-faire, thanks.
Anyway, the Filipino co-owner writes me an email, addressing it to “Mark Ponce from Ateneo.” Here’s what he wrote:
Hello Joshua,
I am Raymond, the owner of the business. I find your price very steep and insulting. I am a Filipino also and I know the on-going rate in PI. Your articles must be floating on water to get paid by this price.
If you wanted to be a part of my team, Ivy, my co-owner will fill you in on the things we needed. We have a fixed range of fees and we don’t just accept applicants, we do screening first if you were to pass our standard.
Thanks,
Raymond
The sky-metal warps into a battle-axe, and I reply:
Raymond,
“I find your price very steep and insulting. I am a Filipino also and I know the on-going rate in PI.”
I’m not trying to swindle anyone as you seem to be implying. I just got paid a week ago at a rate of 1k for a 300-word article. I wouldn’t give anyone false information, regardless of whether I’m talking to a non-Filipino or not. I take pride in my work and I believe in an honest day’s work.
Just because you haven’t encountered such a rate doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. That’s rather poor reasoning, friend. If you can’t accommodate the rate, just say so.
Thank you for your time!
Mark Ponce
I was really tempted to place add the “from Ateneo” suffix after my signature, but I decided against it. I don’t know what it is about some people and their acute tendencies in basing their perceptions and arguments on whether this or that person went to this or that school. It’s annoyingly typical and just plain jejune. I mean, get over your insecurity, man. That “school” yardstick stinks of pre-adolescent hang-ups and a pitifully narrow perspective.
I’m proud of being Atenean but that doesn’t define me. Studying in Ateneo doesn’t mean you’re the sharpest tool in the shed or the best human being out there. It just means… you studied in Ateneo. I love it that this Raymond person only chose to notice that one line from my resume that identified which school I went to–rather than look at what I did the past five years or where I worked (which was all discussed extensively in my CV). Point is, there are just people who can’t get over the whole school thing–and you can pretty much tell what kind of people they are from this fact, really. Am surprised I even bothered to reply to such a person.
Ah well, that’s what I love doing, educating people.
Anyway I can’t wait to see his reply tomorrow. Even if this guy had the money to afford my rate, it’ll never work out. Based on the way he argued his point it’s going to bother me to pieces how I ended up working for someone who hasn’t got any depth (Mark is so kind he chooses to go for a euphemism when he has the license to say hurtful albeit honest things since its his personal blog anyway), and a poor example of a human being, to boot.
I just hope Raymond’s American co-business owner will see this much when she opens her email tomorrow–I made sure to CC her email on this.
