About a month ago, I had contacted the editor of our small town newspaper here- for the sake of argument, let's call it the Fucknut Enterprise- and asked him if I could write for them. Well, he hemmed and hawed and talked about how he didn't have a budget for freelance writers and I wrote him back and told him that I would write for free; I just want the byline (I need more editorial work in my portfolio if I'm going to get back onto the newspaper staff in Hawaii). Anyway, he said it was okay if I submit and article. Well, I get excited and got to work. I went out to this local hotspot, slaved over this article and turned it in this last Monday. Did I hear anything back from the editor? Anything like "Got the article, thanks" or "This is complete bollucks"? Nothing. Silence. I thought, "Oh well, this must be the way things are done in this small town". Ha. Silly me.
The paper comes out on Friday. So, yesterday I got up early and trucked it on down to my local bookstore. I picked up the paper and looked through, hoping to see my article. As I continued scanning the sections, hope faded fast. Finally, I threw the paper down in disgust and resignation. That fucker didn't use my piece! Not only did he not have the balls or the decency to let me know; he just ignored it. Forcing myself not to cry, I walked to the nearby Kroger- feeling silly for getting up early for this bullshit. At Kroger, I was hoping to find a copy of the local glossy "Image". Perhaps they need a writer. After all, they are a new mag. No dice.
Long story short: I drove around town, visited the library, etc formulating my next plan of attack. I didn't want to drive home, though. For some reason, I thought that driving home would be an admission of defeat. And I don't do defeat.
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