Tuesday, 4 March 2014
Gentlemen, welcome to Write Club
The first rule of Write Club is: No-one cares about anything you write, ever
The second rule of Write Club is: No-one cares about anything you write, EVER
The third rule of Write Club is: No matter how good your pitch is, the editor will either be on holiday, on the phone or at lunch when your email arrives.
The fourth rule of Write Club is: You won't see money from completed work for at least two months after it's published.
The fifth rule of Write Club is: Every idea you want to do has either been covered by other people, isn't of interest to any money-paying publication or is impossible to write about because it requires interviews with people who live by rule 3.
The sixth rule of Write Club is: The only people who will respond to your work in any sustained way will be people who hate it.
The seventh rule of Write Club is: You'll hate yourself for wasting your life writing about videogames. Then you'll hate yourself even more because you can't seem to get even that right.
The eighth rule of Write Club is: You'll never make money, be admired, become famous. You'll sit in front of Jimquisition/Zero Punctuation/anything on IGN and wonder what the f*ck it is readers want.
The ninth rule of Write Club is: Despite the knocks to your confidence and the moneylessness, this is nevertheless preferable to doing a real job. You're a lazy so-called "creative" and the idea of getting out of bed before *you're* ready to in the morning terrifies you.
The tenth rule of Write Club is: You better have a spouse who actually works and is willing to support your bullshit dream. You also better be able to cope with the crushing, only fair guilt of knowing she/he is going out to work while you're trying to explain to Kotaku why your article about the monsters in The Last of Us is a work of searing genius.
The eleventh rule of Write Club is: Everyone more successful than you is also much stupider. See rule eight.
The twelfth rule of Write Club is: Despite your awkward, weekly pestering of PR reps, review code will never arrive on time. This means you will either a) miss the embargo and cost both yourself and the site you're writing for credibility b) have to write a review of a game you haven't even completed and/or c) miss the invoice submission date for this month and have to wait four weeks until you can bill for the review, by which time your f*cking gas has been shut off.
The thirteenth rule of Write Club is: The best way to get published is to fake enthusiasm. Claim you believe games are significantly artistic or a force for change. Everyone loves to jack off. Play up to it.
The fourteenth rule of Write Club is: You'll never be any good.
The fifteenth rule of Write Club is: Neither will anyone else.
The sixteenth rule of Write Club is: Nothing you write will ever influence the creation of videogames in any way.
The seventeenth rule of Write Club is: Previews, press events and expos always have been, are, and always will be a complete f*ucking waste of time.
The eighteenth rule of Write Club is: Never ever bloody anything, ever.
The nineteenth rule of Write Club is: You can't do this anymore. You wake up every day and it's the same: no emails, no interest, no money. Day by day your conviction is dissolving. You're embarrassed by how poor you are. You're guilty about embellishing your career when you describe it to your friends. All you have are your old articles and you check them daily, hoping they've been commented on or re-shared on Twitter, anything to make you feel like someone, somewhere is interested. You can't take feeling like this. You hate your work but you're also guilty about hating your work. Look at those people doing real jobs, with real responsibilities, and here you are shitting and moaning about having to write (or not write) about poxy videogames. There's no point to you.
The twentieth rule of Write Club is: If this is your first week at Write Club, you have to write.