Get Paid Writing Short Stories Novels & Stories

But a lot of copy was just to catch people's attention. For example, "wrote novels for nine years, made a six-figure monthly income in my twenties, charged 599 to take students." Then there were a bunch of screenshots of royalties. Many people sighed and felt envious. Some moms and college students just thought about giving it a try. In the end, I paid the money, took a bunch of text analysis classes and ranking classes, and finally made a dozen bucks a month. Looked like I was making money. Actually, anyone who wrote 100,000 words a month could make a dozen bucks a month, so whether they taught that apprentice or not, it was the same.

Paid per article. "Hey, this one looks legit," I said, clicking it. Laura peered over. "‘Small but growing’ is code for ‘we can’t pay you shit.’" I groaned. "Yeah, well, I need some kind of income." "Fine. Apply. But if they try to pay you in gift cards or coupons, I’m burning their office down," she muttered. I ignored her and opened my old portfolio. A bunch of archived articles from back when I actually cared about journalism.

Cora shrugged. "Me? There's no way I won't need money," I joked and we laughed. I did have a job, I am a writer, and I do all the kinds of writing there is; Ghost writing, content writing, script-writing, and I write personal books, two of which were adapted into live action. Not to brag, but I am a hot cake writer, kinda famous for my works, and works that people didn't even know I wrote; either way, it was bringing me money and hence the reason why Cora would think I didn't need money. Everyone needs money, Femi Otedola does, Jeff Bezos does, Dangote does, hell even Elon Musk still needed money, so who was I not to need money because I was earning a few thousands? Not me!

Nisim had a different take on it: “Create, edit, send, repeat. It’s important to be in print, but don’t expect each of your stories to be published. Thank your stars, even if ten percent of all that you write makes it to print, okay? But the process – create, edit, send, repeat – is important. It is the only way you can get over the wannabe-writer-syndrome and be one.” Jahnobi kept pressing me to send my stuff to the local magazines while I was hell-bent on not sending them, because the local magazines didn’t pay for contributions. How could I give my work to them for free? That way, I would never be able to build my personal economy with stories. Nisim’s viewpoint clearly contradicted what

He struck me as someone slightly eccentric. He told me he would be in touch with my next task and to look out for his emails. I would also be paid $300 for my work tonight. The same sort of emails came through every week. I would then have $300 or sometimes $400 transferred into my bank account within minutes of me sending over my findings. It was the easiest job.

“Caleb, how am I going to send you money? I only have a little petty cash.” Strangely, I used to edit articles and stories for people. They used to give me peanuts while they got hundreds of dollars to publish my writing. It never bothered me as soon as I got paid, but today, my brother wants money, making me feel bad for not asking more for my work. “I’ll come to collect it. Just tell me you have the money.” “What? Are you in town? Why didn’t you tell me? Where are you?” “Aoife, I will just take the money and leave.”

The caption would be followed by a bunch of royalty screenshots. Many people would be envious and shocked, including some housewives and college students who would be tempted to try. However, they would only realize they could only make a few dollars a month after paying for the useless mentorship and courses. Although it seemed like they were making money, people could earn a few dollars per month if they wrote 100 thousand words per month regardless of mentorship. Of course, the writing industry relied on individual insight. If one believed they were a genius in this field, they should have noticed that nobody had been taught their way to success.

I act like I don't know. ​“You know what I mean. My lawyer called me. Every debt is cleared. The loans—everything is paid.” She stops for a second. “Diana, that was a lot of money. Where did you get it?” ​My heart starts pounding. “I... I got a new job opportunity,” I stammer. ​ “What kind of opportunity?” ​I close my eyes tightly. “I got another writing contract.” ​ “With that much money?” ​“Yes.” ​“Diana.” The way she says my name makes me freeze. “I know how much writers make.

“You seem lost and afraid. Is it about the bad guy and the unpaid debt?” I nodded desperately. “Well, I know how you can clear this debt in 4 days,” she said confidently, looking me dead in the eyes. “How?” “There is a site that provides clients that pays you for every exclusive post you send to them,” she started and my mind wandered to our last conversation. “Exclusive?” “Yes, if they find you charming, they spend more on you so that you can satisfy them by selling your body to them. Do whatever they want. The reward is handsome, Lily, think about it.”

“This isn’t some mistake?” She laughed softly. “No mistake. They want you. And before you ask—” “Payment?” I cut in. “My dear,” she said, amused, “your normal rate card.” I closed my eyes. Normal. Not discounted. Not cautious. Not pity-driven. Normal. “Wow,” I breathed. “Exactly,” Leah said. “Some people don’t mind bad publicity. Some people just like good writing.” Something warm spread through my chest. Slow. Careful. Like my body didn’t quite trust it yet.