A chivalrous cause

We may be living in the fast-paced, technological age of the 21st century, but who said chivalry and magic are dead? On Sept. 16 and 17, travel back in time to the era when knights jousted for the…

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Does Upwork Still Hire Writers?

I doubt it. Or Maybe I am the problem. Just hear me out.

Dear Rant mate,

Back then I got three favorable responses for every five proposals I wrote. I would then negotiate with the trio and pick one. Then I would deliver gold, as a certain countryman called it.

Then crap happened. And now I am here.

Ranting. And broke.

Poor actually.

With no one to write for.

It all began towards the end of September 2021. I was winding up with a client from Australia. The fine kind of client you wish to keep working with. But time was up. And his book was ready for Amazon.

Its just the way I refuel after writing a book. Rather, the way I used to.

I haven’t written for a client in months. But hold that thought, you will soon find out why.

The first week passed. More proposals. Crickets.

My proposals didn’t seem to amuse any client on Upwork. Even with restyling. September was setting fast and I NEEDED to get work for the following month.

Upwork had become my trusted corner office, the avenue where clients streamed in with writing jobs. From bulleted notes, audio messages, to PowerPoint presentations that refused to mature into books in the owner’s hands. Until they landed on mine.

Then came the second week. My break ended. Yet there were no articles or books for me to write. Had the writing ghost in me expired?

Proposal after proposal either met a quiet client, or one who wouldn’t hire me. My writing skills seem to have frozen. And there was no sun to thaw them back to life. Efforts to read, listen to audiobooks and even write articles for my website soon came to a halt.

My brain cells began to die.

Have you ever spoken so well about something that you became your friends’ go-to person about it?

I was Upwork’s evangelist.

Of course there were dry seasons. Months where I got no jobs at all. But their successors came with fat wallets. I either landed a book project of up to 30,000 words with a hefty cheque to its name. Or an article writing deal that spun for at least five weeks, swamping the previously dry sections of my economy.

But October of 2021 had a different drought up her sleeve. The non-ending time. The kind that leaves the earth cracked as if threatening to create new continents.

And as if that was not enough, her sister November danced to the same tune.

How I didn’t think to divert my attention to other avenues still beats me. Something to do with the die-hard fan frenzy best demonstrated in Kenya’s political arena every voting season. A crossbreed of pure madness and absolute sycophancy.

I will let you decide mad fellow from the sychophant for your homework, if you can. Hint, both attend political rallies. But that’s a rant for another day.

The 6th of December 2021 came with a rain cloud the size of a baby’s fist. It wet my writing appetite enough to redeem my faith in Upwork. But soon I would discover that the client could not sustain the project. I went home with $5. Much better than an empty wallet.

Since then the best notifications I have read from my beloved Upwork are calls to attend webinars. The rest are requests to add a skill they believe I could benefit from, archival of my proposals following the expiry of jobs I showed interest in, and on a decent day, the rejection of my proposals.

On rare occasions however I have been interviewed. But that too leads to a dead end, leaving no money for the writer.

So you see, I do not rant without reason. I have been there, devoted my life to Upwork, and preached the freelance writing gospel around the world. But seemingly the end has come.

Will I close my account?

If only I had the guts!

I have no choice than endure this disabling feeling taunting me about my ability to write worthy content. Why else would Upwork clients reject me?

I suppose the only fruit remaining from my writing tree is my epitaph. Seeing that I have already penned my will. Then maybe, just maybe, I will hang my pen.

That is if I won’t fall into the temptation of writing naughty notes after robbing banks. That’s where all the money is kept I hear. Even after Upwork, a girl got to make money. Right?

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