Sean B. Fitzgerald It doesn’t go something like this, it goes exactly like this.

6Mar/110

Hub Pages

I received an e-mail the other day explaining to me how I could earn money by blogging.

"Wow", I thought. "I would love to make money by blogging,"

So I logged onto the site, posted a blog, and waited for the checks to start rolling in.

They did not.

Turns out I have to generate HTML coding for Google Adsense. Something I have already done for this site. Which has amassed for me, in the span of two years a total of $88. So no, I won't be earning any money by blogging. At least not substantial money. Like, something I could live off. But I still will be posting on that site.

The site is called HubPages. And it's basically just a network of blogs where anyone can post. Hopefully I can start some sort of following of readers and someone who matters and pluck me from the masses and offer me a writing gig where I will be paid thousands of dollars and post. A man can dream, can't he?

Obviously I will still post here. This site is my baby and it has my name. Which is important.

21Feb/110

Affected Seasonally

The weather is the easiest thing to write about. Especially when it sucks. Because it's something everyone can relate to. We all experience the weather in some way or another. Well, except if you're a hermit or a graduate student.

It seems almost cliche at this point to talk about this winter, because it's been so utterly awful. After last Friday when the temperatures reached a boner-inducing 68 degrees here in New York, I thought winter was making it's curtain call. But just like in calculus class, I was wrong again. The next thing I know, I am shoveling 8 inches of snow out of my driveway.

I should have known better. When has winter ever conceded so easily in February? Never. It never has, and it never will. That stupid groundhog was full of it. February loves to live up to it's reputation as being a wasteland of cold, wet, and windy conditions. There is only one good thing about February: its length. I mean look, today is the 21st. We're already 75% through the month. And before you know it, we'll be bitching about March and not understanding why it's still cold.

3Aug/092

Site News

To answer the hundreds dozens two e-mails I got as to why I am not writing as much lately, the answer is simple. Complete and utter writer's block. Usually, I have an opinion on everything sports related. If Tiger Woods just missed a putt or Michael Vick released a new brand of dog food, I should be there to provide some sort of insight and opinion. Not lately. I'm blank.

My mind works with the seasons. Right now, we're in the dog days of summer, a sports purgatory, if you will. Baseball is dragging on, football training camps just started, and the biggest college sports-related news was SEC Media Day, which provided the greatest piece of non-news ever. I guess the 'ol noggin' (taps head) is on a mental vacation. Take right now for instance. I am struggling to form words and string sentences together to articulate to you that fact that I am unable to be witty nor creative in any capacity. That last sentence alone took way too much out of me.

I've been reading a lot lately about the histories of two of my favorite television shows: The Simpsons and Saturday Night Live. And a majority of the books I've read have outlined the sheer genius attributed to the writers. Their ability to sit down and write entire episodes or sketches without even lifting up the pen was astounding. Granted, the writers of SNL had a little substance called cocaine to coax them along the writing process.

One of my favorite Simpsons writers is a man by the name of John Swartzwelder. He is arguably the most prolific writer in Simpsons history and has over 60 episodes credited to him. What makes him most interesting is his reclusiveness. In 1994, Swartzwelder was granted a special dispensation and allowed to no longer attend rewrite sessions with the rest of the writing staff, instead being allowed to send his drafts in from home so other writers could revise them. This was a direct result of his avid smoking habit coming in conflict with a newly implemented policy banning smoking in the writer's room.

He rarely, if ever, makes public appearances and refused to participate in any of the DVD commentaries on the first eleven The Simpsons DVD sets.

I just find it fascinating that someone with an obvious talent for connecting with audiences on a comedic level (A level that is purely social, if not emotional, I believe), is essentially a recluse. Which is why I find my situation even more maddening. Right now, I'm finding it difficult attempting to write for a blog that probably read by nine people.

I'll snap out of it. Sooner or...whatever word comes next.