Copy Writer; I like how that sounds!

So I just did something spontaneous and outrageous, something that someone, like me, someone without much confidence, just doesn't do without weeks of painstaking thought, soul searching and preparation.  ... I signed up at Textbroker to be a copy writer!

Hell, I don't know, maybe in my efforts to stroke my own ego I have erroneously convinced myself that I can write, and that it's possible for me to make a bit of money doing it, or maybe I'm just bored and desperate and need to start a new project to feel useful and alive again.

Regardless of which case is closer to the truth, it's a done deal.  I've registered, and I've written the required short article so that the folks at Textbroker can give my writing skills a rating. The rating they give will decide how much I  get paid per word. It's a starting rate, and that can change as you become more experienced, so I don't have to worry that what I submitted is the be all and end all of my writing career.

There were a couple of topics  I could choose from, nothing to inspiring: sight seeing in your home town; where to party in your favourite city; describe an object, or, write about your favourite brand....  Well, I'm not much of a brand person, but I did recently drink an enjoyable bottle of merlot, so I took advantage of a recent blog post of mine, revamped it, and submitted it as my evaluating article.

It was fun to do. Now I'm hoping that the folks at Textbroker will enjoy reading it  at least half as much as I did writing it, even if I did stretch the boundaries of the topic, just a bit.

Here it is for your pleasure, and unbiased scrutiny:

I found this bottle of wine, called Screw it Merlot in the liquor store tonight. It has a bold, full bodied flavour, with a fruity finish, and with a name like Screw it!, it’s the perfect wine to say good riddance to a stressful work week or an unrequited love affair.

I don’t like myself much when I’m stressed out; I’m not proud of who I become when others reject, or dump their baggage onto me; I don’t bear it well.  But once the weekend arrives, I can put my feet up and relax with a glass or two of this charming Merlot and say screw it all, and by Monday morning I’ll be back to being my old lovable self once more. 

Who knows, maybe if I can turn that charm up just a notch or two, I won’t have to sit home alone next Friday night as well.