When you’re unemployed, as I am at the moment, getting an email that asks you to write something is generally a wonderful thing. Not so much because it offers a possibility of payment (if you’re a freelancer, then consider payment a bonus. You’re supposed to get thrilled at the sight of your byline in print.) but because it brings you in contact with a person who remembers your writing. That should always be a reason to exult. Unless it’s my inbox into which you’re peering.
Someone who has spent a significant number of years in the media as an English-language writer got in touch with me and asked me if I was interested in a collaboration of sorts. This person then proceeded to detail what they were looking for, complete with bullet points and asterisks. Ending the email, they wrote, “Having written this brief to you, I am now naked. Please keep this in mind when you write back.”
I’m now imagining said person systematically stripping as they write bullet point after bullet point.
Did. Not. Need. That. Image.