As a freelance writer in fashion and the arts, the urge to sell out naturally overtakes me once in a while. I will lie in bed and contemplate switching my focus from creative writing to something more, let’s say, monetisable and “of the moment”. These thoughts particularly sprout when my bank account enters the red or the trials of professional writing pile up. I loop through the options – and judiciously litigate their respective pros and cons. Launch a podcast with a friend, revive my long-neglected Substack, start making TikToks, document my #OOTDs with militarian rigour. A professional pursuit that won’t prompt someone to say, “Oh, that must be tough right now!” Then, all the reasons why not rush in and submerge my lukewarm aspirations. Too freewheeling and unedited, why write for free, too old, too superficial, too shameless. But… maybe? And repeat.
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