I have a job as a freelance writer at a company that sells online products.
It’s not that I’m bad at it.
I’ve never failed to get a project done.
I work hard and I have no regrets.
But I’m also pretty good at what I do.
I’m not a genius, nor am I a good writer, nor do I care about what people think.
I write because I want to share a few things with you.
I know I’m better at it than most people, and if I ever want to get back to writing, I’ll have to change my career.
And that’s okay.
I want you to be better at what you do.
That’s why I’m writing.
I can’t write.
It takes time and effort to write.
I wrote an essay for a book I’m working on that will appear in April.
I spent the past week or so looking for a good editor and a good publisher, and the best editor and publisher is a friend of mine.
I met him on a Reddit AMA and we started talking about the book.
He told me that he had been waiting for this interview to happen for a while, and that he thought it would be a great opportunity to help me out.
After all, I’m a freelance journalist.
So I sent a message to my friend asking if he would like to join the project.
“I would love to,” he said.
I was a little surprised, and I wondered what it would take to convince him to join.
I don’t want to be a writer, so I had to think for a moment.
He’s a writer too, and we’ve known each other for years.
I knew he had the chops to help, so why not?
So I reached out to my editor at The New York Times.
We agreed that this would be great, and he did a fantastic job, sending me an outline and sending me a draft.
I thought he was going to be super cool and he was, and it’s a great thing that he agreed to join me.
But after reading the manuscript, I realized that the story didn’t really work for me.
I’d never write about anything that wasn’t about me, and my work was about a very specific and very specific type of person.
I had never written about the man who lives with HIV and works at an animal shelter.
I didn’t write about how the person who gets paid the most money, who has a house, who is a successful man, who loves animals and pets, and who is able to go to parties in his fancy apartment while everyone is having a great time, has sex with people who are strangers in a room with strangers and has sex to his heart’s content.
This is not my story.
And so my friend and I went back to our old ways.
We didn’t talk about the project, and now we can’t.
I have to keep working, but it’s been a really hard adjustment.
My editor said, “If you’re going to write this, you better make it about you.”
So I did.
It was a huge relief, and then I realized I was not writing for him.
I really did have a great editor who really wanted to help.
But he had a different idea about what I wanted to write about.
It turns out, he wanted to know if I was gay.
So he sent me an email and said, We can talk about it in a few days.
I asked if I could send it to a few people at The Times, and they agreed.
The rest is history.
And now I can write about the most fascinating gay people in America.
I hope I didn