A Writing vs Reward Rant

I’m a work masochist. I force myself to write, no matter the circumstances. I could have one of my hands blown off from a fireworks mishap and still force myself to sit down and work as soon as possible — pain radiating from my phantom limb and all.

I do it to prove my career legitimacy to nobody but myself. It’s weird.

Compared to most conventional jobs, the biggest problem with my work is that I don’t see a regular paycheck. I only sometimes get the reward of knowing if anything I’ve written is well received or read.

This is a problem for many freelance writers who are unpaid for something specific. It’s defeating, leading to many thoughts of literary suicide — how would I do it?

Bludgeon the page with a stab of my pen until it bleeds black ink? Shred the page into ribbons and dump the body of work into the recycling.

Or could I perform the modern equivalent of technological denial and DELETE, DELETE, DELETE?

As tempting as it may be, I still trudge through without the tiniest hint of silver lining shining outside my office window. So, what’s my compensation for all my hard work?

I’ve heard writers should reward themselves whenever they finish a goal to keep spirits up. Have you completed your first draft of your script? Buy yourself something! Have you finished a second draft? A third? A fourth? Buy yourself four somethings.

But what? What can you buy yourself to represent your accomplishment?

I know plenty of writers who buy themselves special pens — expensive cylinders with bird and intricate floral designs carved into the shaft, felt tips, and non-refillable ink.

I like this idea, especially since I prefer conceptualizing story ideas via longhand to the startling and disruptive glare of spellcheck’s red underlining via typing online.

I know writers who buy themselves typewriters. TYPEWRITERS! Whenever a novel manuscript reaches its final draft, a typewriter is purchased. I like this idea, too, but I do not have the living space.

I could go the other way and Lego the thing, buy a key here and a hammer there, and reassemble the machine. But the actual outcome would not be a sense of pride over a fully functioning typewriter.

It’ll be another instance of could have, should have, would have, adding to my walk-in closet of broken dreams (a collection of semi-tried and failed creative pursuits I don’t have the guts to throw away). Sigh. I don’t know.

What about you? When you reach a writing goal, how do you reward yourself? I’d love to hear your thoughts!