Recently, I left my job.

I was the Creative Director at Native Digital–a neat little agency in a warehouse with a table tennis table. It took about a year to realise making arrangements and being an expert in technology wasn’t my bag. I’m a copywriter by trade. The skills just didn’t fit. So I left.

I thought my mum would hate me, but she didn’t.

“Oh, Tait, well, sounds like you made a good decision. Do you want lasagna? I can get Tim to drop some off.”

It’s easy to forget how much jobs don’t matter. No one cares what you do. Anyone who does is a doormat.

Now, I’m a writer. Wa-hoo.

It’s the best word I’ve found for what I’m good at. I’m gonna run with it while I can.

Each week, I’ll be splitting my time between copywriting for clients and writing features for magazines. I’ve been making arrangements for a year now (aka, writing emails, quickly) so I think I can do this (aka, making money, quickly).

You know, last Monday I climbed that giant hill of Hobart, Mt. Wellington. Armed with a pair of vans and a backpack containing a mandarine and a half-finished bag of nuts, myself and three others reached the peak. It was -4 and we were wearing tshirts. And that, dear friends, was all the advice I needed to pay rent as a writer.

End note: Native Digital are the very best digital agency in Melbourne. If you’re into start-ups, apps, websites, digital strategies, or making cool stuff, get in touch with ned@nativedigital.com.au, and tell him I sent you.

09/14/11 -- Writing -- 0 Comments