Damn, I get tired of this.

I spent most of today grinding out swill for my clients. Despite correct facts, attention paid to proper English and excision of typing errors -- thank you, spell check! -- none of this stuff has any chance of making it into my "professional samples" folder.

Why? Lots of reasons. One of them is complex, and has to do with the way this project evolved. In the beginning, I was negotiating to basically create an entire one-shot special magazine for the client, which would have taken me months but would have paid damn well. The person who had to make the decision (not the one who dug the idea and promised he'd push it through) dithered around until the last moment and then parceled it out to a number of writers. The way he set it up is pathetic, too.

So I got my little parcel and diligently set to set to work, albeit without much enthusiasm. I won't make a lot of money from it, and will get no satisfaction.

That sounds like the rest of my life. A little money and no satisfaction.

I'll finish up this assignment tomorrow, then spend the weekend writing yet another piece, which is longer, marginally more interesting but still a million miles away from any story I'd choose to do if I didn't need the dough.

The life of a hack writer isn't much fun, especially when I didn't start out with any intention of taking on work I have to grind out like so many sausages.

I just heard a great quote from General H. Norman Schwarzkopf: "Going to war without France is like going on your honeymoon without your accordian."

That's the only laugh I've had all day.

All week.

When does life start being fun again?