2:30 in the morning and my gas tank will be empty soon . . .
It’s nearly three a.m. on a Monday morning, and I will not be going to work tomorrow.
But the truth is, I don’t plan to go to work any time soon. A week ago, I turned down a completely fine offer for full time work. A job with benefits. Where I’d have perfectly nice co-workers, and a decent yearly salary.
I realized that I had a problem when I saw my voice mail early in the morning a few weeks ago, noted the phone number of the company in question’s HR department, knew, deep down, that they’d be calling with a job offer, then promptly went back to sleep and dreamed of getting turned down for the job. In my dreams, I was very, very happy.
Here, I have to note that I have a part-time job right now, one that is decently paying: I’m working from home doing grading for an educational testing company. It’s not thrilling work, and I won’t be rich, but it’s a living, or thereabouts, and it’s flexible work.
I asked them to give me time to think about the offer, and because they were generous, they did. So I thought about it, and asked for advice from those who know me on facebook.
Some of the responses:
work from home. no question about it. don’t even ask yourself again. just do it. i’d say this to virtually anyone weighing these option, but it especially applies to you.
More time home also gives you the time to work on art projects, which is better in the long run for you, I think.
Follow the ♥!
These people know me, so this advice meant the world. But that didn’t make the choice any less scary. Working full time has been the safe, mature, responsible decision in many respects–it’s meant security and stability. But it’s become increasingly untenable, if not just unpalatable, as I’ve gotten older, and particularly as my own writing’s become more and more important to me.
Because, when it comes down to it, no matter how fulfilling a job is, it will always just be a job to me. My work–my life and my passion–is my writing.
And my writing is enriched by other things that aren’t exactly job related: family, friends, road trips, television, music, art projects, adventures, long walks. And the only one of those things I’ve had time to work on over the past year was the walking thing, and only because I didn’t feel like paying for parking. Nearly all of my time was spent working, or writing. And it was frigging exhausting, and I can’t help but think that my writing–what really, really matters to me, the way that work matters for other people–suffered for it.
It’s been a week since I called up the very nice people who were kind enough to offer me work and turn them down. And right now, I’m at my mother’s house–a place I’ve visited only twice in eight months–and today I went to the city and the beach with my sister and my head is swarming with stories. I’ve realized that there’s something that urgently needs to be added to Seas Run Dry (I thought I was finished; perhaps not). And I’ve started to figure out not only the logistics of my new project, Trip, but also quite a bit about the characters and the settings. Individual scenes are beginning to materialize. It’s becoming palpable–a necessity for me to really be able to proceed. I’m itching to write, a feeling I haven’t had in awhile.
That’s not to say that pulling the plug on Full Time Work was easy. I’ll have to buy health insurance. I’ll have to perform well at my part-time job so that I can continue getting decent hours. I’ll have to manage a home office and not become a hermit.
But the worst part is the guilt, and the doubt. Despite Jewish upbringing, I was also raised with a strong pseudoprotestant work ethic. I worry that I might seem lazy, that my choice might be a self-indulgent one. I worry that it’s foolish to make such a choice without an agent, or a book deal, that with only a small handful of partials and fulls out I’m somehow tempting fate. I worry I worry I worry . . .
But still, I know that I have something that I want to share with the world. And I know that I need to honor it, and tend to it. I know that I can’t let it wither and die. This all sounds gradiose, I’m sure–though for some reason, it’s easier to make sweeping statements at three a.m., when one is sunburnt and sleepless. But I wanted to share these thoughts with you guys, as a sort of statement of intent, a manifesto, of sorts.
Way back when, my husband said, “It’s living in and writing your own story, and if it’s possible for you to do that, you should.” These words aren’t mine; I won’t tattoo them to my skin. But I’ll keep them in my heart and on my tongue, and I’ll do my best to be true to them. It’s that important to me.
Phoebe
Phoebe is a 20-something writer who lives in New York State with her husband and cat. She is a dork, not a geek or a nerd.
Her debut novel, Starglass, will be released from Simon and Schuster Books for Young Readers in Summer 2013.
10 comments
I'm kind of in the same position as you right now, and I vacillated between the sensible thing and what felt good to me. Another one of those instances where I have to choose between logic and emotions, and since I normally go with logic, it was very difficult for me to just jump in without doubting my decision and choose my emotions this time. However, it feels great.
It's nice to follow your heart, and I applaud for making the decision. It certainly doesn't seem like it was an easy decision, but you did what you felt was right and you deserve credit for that. Enjoy these moments! It's better to do this and be happy than do something logical but hate it, right?
Good luck with your stories and everything else!
Thanks for the encouragement, Remilda! Good luck with your stories, too.
Dang. I have nothing much to say except that I am insanely jealous of you, and any elaboration of that would be dwelling on my own situation which I have not allowed myself to do.
Aw, if it's any help, I am absolutely and completely aware of how insanely lucky I am to be in this position–to be married to someone who is about to be a student so that I can buy his health insurance, for example, and in other ways (which I don't feel completely comfortable talking about in the blog!) to be financially able to take a risk like this.
I'm agnostic, so I can't say that God is smiling on me, but, yeah, I do feel like the stars have aligned for me right now to take this opportunity.
I recently moved to another state and have been looking for a job since I got here. Before I moved, I had a full time job that I liked (I worked with monkeys…honestly) but I really disliked the company politics and felt drained every day to the point where I dreaded my Mondays.
After I moved here, I got a really good job offer. They had great pay and benefits, sure. But I got a really icky feeling about the company…like if I quit before a 2-3 year period I'd have to pay them around 3 thousand dollars to quit the job and the list goes on so I didn't take the job.
I moved to start a sparkly new life, not to get caught up in another soul sucking job that leaves me with no energy for my own creative projects.
Then I interviewed with a daycare and their views on certain things left me with another icky feeling. (I explained to them that I used to work with special needs children. The director said, "My view on special needs is that I was supposed to have a child with special needs and then didn't." So…you think they don't exist simply because you don't have a child with special needs?) Needless to say, I didn't take that job either.
However, my boyfriend applied for one seemingly awesome job and got it. Since we only have 1 car in a town that requires a car…well, I found a part time job that only requires me to walk down the street for two hours a day.
Pay is decent, wish I had a few more hours, but I don't HATE the job and I don't HATE the company. In fact, they're the nicest bosses I've ever had.
So what do I do with all the free time? Play housewife, write, and play the accordion!
Monkeys! Accordion! Valerie, your life sounds fascinating.
It's funny–in talking this decision over with my husband, I came to realize that part-time, non-career jobs have been far more enjoyable for me than full-time work. Maybe it's because there's less pressure to pretend like your work is your life's work. We spend so much time working; I think you're right that we have to trust our instincts about these kind of things.
Ugh, I know what you mean. I hate it when companies expect you to live for the job. There's no way anyone can be happy in that kind of situation.
I'm in a *sort of* similar position, although without all of those troublesome Adult Responsibilities. I'm a student (English/History double major) and I'm currently heading into the third and final year of my BA…which means deciding between working my ass off so I can move on to the land of MAs and PhDs or spending all of my time writing on the off-chance that my current WIP (or, uh, the one after that…) gets published. So far I've kept the two at an uneasy peace by writing during the summer and focusing on academic stuff during semester time, but I have a feeling that won't last unless I finish my current WIP in the next 21 days – which isn't going to happen.
For what it's worth, I probably would have picked the part-time job as well – writing is just too damn important
I think we're all forced to start considering these sorts of questions early, unfortunately. I know that I faced them during college (with my useless creative writing and philosophy degree!) too.
I was *this* close to doing philosophy instead of English – only the fact that my university has a fairly poor philosophy department stopped me. I'd still love to study it sometime.