I had a meeting today for a new travel gig. Nothing’s firm, so I can’t go into any details yet. I do have a pretty good feeling about it, though. It’s exactly the sort of project I want to take on right now, and it seems like I’d be a good fit. So, fingers crossed.
When I said that I was beyond jet lag, I was wrong. Completely wrong. I crashed hard last night, woke up at 4 AM today and struggled to sleep until a few minutes ago. I felt like 10 angry midgets came at me with baseball bats yesterday (a bit sore), but now it’s down to only four or five angry midgets. I got a few pitches out the door this morning before I went back to bed, and I have my fingers crossed. I’m starting to think that getting a new weekly column might not be realistic; I may have to pitch articles individually for a bit.
Okay, first let me thank my new fellow travel writer D., who has offered to let me contribute to his blog. I am absolutely taking him up on it. It will help keep me sharp through the hunt. You know how I am: “The best writers are like professional athletes. You have to work out every day.”
Hey, D: thanks for giving me a summer training camp.
Don’t get me wrong. If all goes well with D., I’ll contribute regularly even after I get back into the mainstream travel media game. It’s never been about impressive mastheads with me. I just love to cover travel. He has a cool blog, so I’m in. More details when I get ’em.
Also, I sent out my first pitch for a travel column a few minutes ago. I’m optimistic. I’ll have a few more going out later.
I filed a short piece on travel to Scotland yesterday for TraderDaily.com‘s daily travel update, which is how I found out my column has been banished to limbo. Since it’s unlikely that this piece will see the light of day for a long time, if ever, I’m running it here. Shed a tear for my column, and give this very brief update a read.
Don’t worry, I’ll be back on the hunt tomorrow.
Look, it’s pretty obvious that the media industry turmoil is the result of print companies who have spent the past 10 years fucking around rather than putting together business models that could make money on the fucking web. Now, print companies are dying in droves, and the layoffs are endless. Sure, we’re losing a lot of mags that shouldn’t have existed anyway, but some classic books, like Playgirl, are becoming casualties as well. Okay, maybe Playgirl deserved to go, but some good ones are getting nailed.
Okay, my new bud J. had a great idea. With all the fucking mags going down the shitter, such as the latest from PC Magazine’s print edition, she proposed that the publishing/media industry get a bailout. I’m all for it. Just look at Gawker every fucking day to get a sense of how horrible the situation is. On a certain level, I hope this is the first step of a media industry transformatoin that finally elevates online to its rightful position, but I get the sense that it’s going to be a long road. And, it’s going to hurt.
No, it’s not a joke name; he’s real. In fact, the Duke is a very pleasant man who just happens to live in a castle … well, technically it’s a palace. Castles are fortified; his is not (despite the many old weapons hanging on display). I got to shake his hand and talk to him for a bit, which was cool, because I’d never met a duke before. Can’t say that any more.
Well, I didn’t get a chance to blog much last night, but I’ll get to that. I’ll get to a whole lot more now that my travel column for Trader and Dealmaker is being suspended for several months thanks to the turmoil in the publishing industry. My best to all who’ve been laid off, wherever they were writing. So, here I am, the traveling travel writer without a travel column. Fortunately, I might have found a home for my big story on this trip, so fingers crossed.
After the jump, learn more about my adventures over the past two days.
Support the troops. I am, by wearing a kilt. It was an interesting experience. I wore it “authentic,” which was an interesting experience. My nads were a lot hotter than I expected, making me wonder under which conditions one would wear a kilt. Do you let your balls broil or calves freeze? Oh, speaking of calves, feel free to salivate over mine.