When it comes to being lucky she’s cursed.*
A beautiful song. I didn’t know Cat Stevens wrote it until I found this on YouTube. I’d always heard hoarse, crusty ol’ Rod Stewart in my head.
My Ventura County Star opinion column has been cut for budgetary reasons.
It seems as if many of my readers didn’t know I actually got paid to write this thing every two weeks for over a decade and a half, and several of them asked me to keep writing it and post it elsewhere. I tried to explain that I can’t/won’t do that unless I get paid. The Star did offer to allow me to continue the column, but without pay. I said nope.
Don’t read anything into that. It was all very civilized. I completely understood why it happened, and I expected to eventually be cut. Also, I must reiterate that nearly every editor at the Star has been wonderful to me. They have always treated me as a professional and a team member.
Here is the Star column headshot you will no longer see. There is a backstory to this smirky, snarky-ass expression. The photographer was so good-looking that I kept blushing and acting otherwise stupider than my (at the time) thirty-something self.
I still have my other regular freelance for them—in fact, I have a Homes cover story assignment today—and I’m doing articles for Edible Ojai & Ventura County magazine. I also have a number of projects related to my vintage purse museum. So, no worries. I’m busy.
I am, as I told one of my readers, considering writing an opinion column and posting it here, but I was very clear about the fact that I do have ads on this blog, with the idea being I’d get ad revenue in return for writing. I’m not really in this biz for the byline. Which sounds a little hardcore, but hopefully not mercenary.
That said—and to maybe personalize it a bit—here’s what I told a fellow freelancer (and former staff writer) in an email about the death of my column: “Yeah, man. I knew it was coming, but I was a little shaken when I got that email today. This is a morbid analogy, but it's like having a terminally ill relative—you know he's going to die, but it's a shock when it actually happens.”
*A week before my column got cut, I won $200 on a lottery scratcher.