I was very happy at The Malay Mail, several years ago. A friend of mine was looking for a job. He also had a girlfriend. And a car.
Being a child of well-to-do parents, he had loads of comics and games and a Mac. He had money to go see movies, even without a job. When you're 23, in a recovering economy (2003), that's fucking amazing.
He was jobless, so I said, "My boss is looking for writers. In fact, all publications are constantly on the lookout for writers. They can't get enough of (good) writers."
"But can I write?"
"Anybody can write," I said.
So I sneaked him into the office once. But my editor was not there. I flirted with his girlfriend, though, who was excited to be in the office of a proper newspaper. We were both making fun of his lack of drive and confidence.
Confidence is like an extra dick. I think his girlfriend wanted that extra dick.
Disheartened at that small setback, he never came back.
I set up a meeting between him and my editor a couple of months later, but he only reached the guardhouse.
"Why? Why didn't you call me?" I said.
"Well, the security guard said your editor was not in. SO I left my resume at the guardhouse."
"..."
It has been some time. I exchange a few words with him every two or three years. DOing very well for himself. Chasing a life-long dream of doing animation, I heard.
I think he got married. Not to his girlfriend then. I hope I wasn't the reason he broke up, though.
Yes. Anybody can write. Really. You just need to want to.
