Working at Borders was the best. The pay was terrible and the customers were occasionally strange or messy or angry. My co-workers were the difference. They made every day fun. The only common ground besides a place of employment was our love of books, music, and pop culture ephemera that the store possessed. It was summer camp for 30-year-old wise-asses who read deeply.
Freelancing possesses the same communal energy. The pay can be terrible, and our editors occasionally can be strange or messy or angry. Freelancers cover different topics and employ different styles to make points, but writing is the common ground, forming a tribe that is as supportive as it is eclectic.