I sold a blog post!
There’s a website, blogmutt.com connecting writers to companies in search of content. I signed up a while ago but hadn’t followed through. I didn’t search the site’s listings, select a topic, write a post, and submit it. On Monday, I submitted my first post.
I chose an unusual topic. A company making custom wigs for women going through chemo wanted a blog post on, “Why women who’ve decided to only use scarves and hats should consider a custom wig.”
The minimum was 250 words. I wrote 300. A couple days later I got an email that the company bought my 300 words for eight dollars, or a little less than three cents a word.
After I sell enough essays I unlock more lucrative opportunities on blogmutt. In the meanwhile, 250 words on a subject isn’t particularly difficult. Maybe an hour or so start to finish.
I figure if I write ten posts a day, five days a week, fifty-two weeks a year, I’ll clear $19,200. I don’t mean to brag, but if this was 1981, I’d be rocking the national median income.
It is a start.
In other news, I’m processing the fact Lexi, my youngest daughter doesn’t want me visiting her in Rome next semester.
Lexi was exceedingly polite about it. She texted, telling me how busy she’ll be. Even if I’m there, not demanding her time, just the knowledge I’m in Rome will stress her out.
I made a counter-proposal. I’d go to Europe and stop in Rome for a day. She didn’t respond.
There are two dynamics at play.
I am certain her sisters and her mother will visit her. Maybe not all at the same time, but probably. Knowing I’m not invited to be part of that family gathering triggers massive mourning.
Knowing my daughter can’t stomach the idea of the two of us in Rome triggers a deep sense of shame over how badly I ruptured our relationship.
Yet, despite shame and mourning, I’ve found compassion for Lexi, recognizing how difficult it must have been for her to say she didn’t want me to come. Sadness without anger is surprisingly liberating.
Time is on my side. I know children want healthy relationships with their parents. As I continue on my path to mindfulness, I am confident my daughters will come to appreciate me for who I am, letting memories of who I was fade into the background.
I just sent Lexi a text, acknowledging how difficult it must have been for her to say she didn’t want me to come. I also said I wouldn’t come and for her not to worry about it.
Lexi responded immediately. She apologized for not replying to earlier texts. She told me about her internship hunt. She didn’t mention Rome. As sad as it makes me feel, I know healing is all that matters, not a trip to Rome.
There you have it. Now, if you’ll forgive me, it’s time to make another eight dollars.
Stay in touch. Connect.
PS A clip from Paper Moon showing a different type of father daughter relationship.