Money. Moolah. Dosh. Dollar. Filthydirtylucre.
Whatever we think of it, it makes the world go round, and the long traditions of exchanging the things we do (oldest trick in the book, innit?) for a return of cold, hard cash is something which appeals very deeply, and has been used to all manner of ends. That said, when it comes to pricing up (how do you put a price on a string of ideas tied together with words?) I think writers have a tendency to get a bit hung up on how and whether and how much to ask for. I know I do, so I’ve never sold myself before. I just never really felt like my words would be worth anything; especially in light of the fact that y’all get them here for free, and the enjoyment is just the same (I really hope!). That said, with the advent of a purpose on which to hang my words, I decided to hawk them a little and see what might happen. So I jazzied them up in their high heels and sent them off to the street corners of the Blogopshere to see what they might bring in.
Because if trying to help kick cancer’s ass isn’t a good reason to turn syntax, I don’t know what is!
Yeah – I offered it up. And no less than FOURTEEN wonderful, amazing people stepped up, put their hands in their pockets and paid for me. So with NO further ado, here is the first ‘Considerings for Cancer’ post: it’s over at Zoe’s blog, Rewritten. Come and see why I’ve never travelled and how come my heart’s full of rubber bands. It’ll make sense, I promise.
And yaknow what? The offer’s still good: I’m selling myself and standing tall.
For a donation to the cancer charity of your choice, you can buy me, and I’ll write you something lovely – a poem ($10), a post ($20), or an Actual, In Fact letter ($30). Let me know in the comments.
And if you have time for a quickie, check out these lovelies:
And all the contributors to the anthology ‘My Other Ex‘, about the demise of important friendships.
(And just in case you now feel as though your head’s spinning from all the wonders for sale here, and you think you should be doing more with your own words, or as though you probably *could* do something, you’re just not sure how or when, or whether it would work anyway…come and read “Baby, look at me and tell me what you see” over at Sisterwives – it’ll set you right)