Nothing is certain but death and taxes. Ben Franklin
I was at H&R Block yesterday, getting our taxes done. I did better last year than the year before on royalties and editing for a site. I quit that site when I saw the writing on the wall. The company wanted the editors (and writers) to do more with even less money. Since I was making about five cents an article to read and do minor fixes, I knew that I didn’t have the time or energy for that amount of work for such little reward. Ironically I decided to write more.
Since the site I left was a content farm– truth is truth– and the main reason I stayed was that my short stories and flash fiction were being read, it was hard to break away from the site. It had become part of my routine. One of the problems was that I didn’t have the energy to write my own stories when I was trying to edit new articles. I had slowed down on my own writing so much that I wasn’t producing or releasing what I needed to get seen.
So seeing the tax preparer, who by the way was happy that I am OCD with receipts, was a kick in the pants for my writing. Will I write more? I will. Will it get up on Amazon and other places? It will. Will it be enough? Only the digital gods know.