Although I started my career at Time Warner (working for CNN’s websites), and later served as an “director of content management” for an upstart website during the dot-com boom, I consider my first real writing experience to be with the Miami New Times in 2002. Something seemed very cool, romantic and indie cred-worthy about getting free CDs from record labels, churning out 100-word reviews and getting paid $40 a pop. Digging around for new releases was fun as well: I got great stuff from indie labels like Sub Pop, Merge, Astralwerks, and Jade Tree, and got turned onto great bands and musicians including Iron and Wine, Doves, and Pedro the Lion. I didn’t make much coin from it, but I was writing for a well-known company (New Times has alterna-newsweeklies in many cities nationwide), and the reviews became the first building blocks in my portfolio, which I leveraged into better gigs. Which is the key to freelance journalism: like a snowball, it gets bigger and bigger the more you push it along. Stop pushing. Stop working.
Reading those reviews now, I find myself being mighty critical. Too wordy. Metaphors that take days to read. Run-on sentences. Comparisons that border on schizophrenic. But they are the first bricks in a house that’s still going up. For all interested parties, here’s my collection of music reviews for the Miami New Times.
Tomorrow I’m heading back home to Finksburg, Maryland for the first time in over a year. I’ve been quite busy traveling for the book tour (including a 1,000-mile trek in 72 hours) and this visit is long overdue. Most people are confounded when I tell them I’m originally from Finksburg, a strangely-named town in state filled with strangely-named villes and burgs (within earshot there’s Fowblesburg, Gaithersburg, Eldersburg, Emmitsburg, Pikesville, Rockville, Burtonsville, and Sykesville). I grew up on Cold Saturday (click here for a Google Earth shot), a hilly green farm framed by reservoirs, lakes and tall thickets of pine trees. There are tractors and horses, docks and muddy rivers, which should keep the boys busy. My bro Aaron and I will likely hit the local links, crush a few drives, and follow it all up with something that might reduce my ability to operate heavy equipment. So please buckle your seatbelt, and return your tray to the upright position.
© 2008 Shawn C. Bean.
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