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Written by G. Wright

Article Index
Introducing G. Wright
Grooving G.
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During one of my "life must have more to offer me than this" moments, I halfheartedly searched craigslist.com for work. Only one posting caught my eye. A gentleman from Chicago had begun a man's website and was looking to hire writers for content.  I applied.  Less than 24 hours later he responded.

Was I interested in a freelance position as a sex columnist? Hmmm, let me think about this??.... Sex and writing?? I'm quite fond of both. Ok, twist my arm. When, where, and how soon could we get this interview underway? I agreed to meet him at a crowded Starbucks in Times Square. I was excited, not dumb. What if he was some crazy, manic, serial killer who had already gone ahead and wallpapered his office with copies of the photo I had attached to my resume?

My normal (NOTE: I use the term "normal" loosely, even my norm is slightly off kilter) business meeting attire consists of glamorous outfits, flawless make-up, and hair that puts Beyonce to shame.
When I'am not the writer, I am the actress. A product.  I attempt to sell myself as someone else on a consistent basis. It's a major mind fuck.

 But this was different.

This job was a possibility because of my brain. I could leave the cleavage at home. How exciting. In an effort to prove how serious I was about my work. I dulled down my looks. After all, I was busy writing my best selling novel and funny, yet poignant essays about life. I threw on my kicks, a baseball hat, and headed for the coffee house empire. I felt liberated. I am more than just a pretty face.

"Are you a model?"

 "Who me? Oh no (insert regal laugh). No, no, I'm a writer".

I arrived early, found a spot and opened my notebook to write. He would be so impressed with my dedication. I noticed and knew it was him immediately. I'm just good like that. He first approached a pretty brunette sitting a few tables away from me, but I intervened. The look of disappointment was evident. I had sent him my actress headshot. Shots with my cascading hair and diva attitude. And here he was shaking hands with Punky Brewster.

 He was polite. I wondered if most meetings via craigslist went down like this. After twenty minutes I regained his confidence with my unwavering charm and demeanor (wink, wink). He sent me on my way with my first assignment. Write an article that would interest men. Anything. It was that simple and yet I had no idea where to begin.
 
Days passed and I had nothing. Though I had already written the credit on my resume. About a week ago Steven (the gentleman with the website. AKA, my new boss) sent an email to check in on me.

Oh that's right! I'm supposed to write for a website.