If you're in the mood for a happy-go-lucky rainbow fairy blog entry today, I suggest you thumb through my archives. Living like a nomad will put anyone on edge, and I'm no exception. All of our possessions are on a ship somewhere, our apartment still won't be move-in ready for weeks, and we've been living out of suitcases for almost three months and counting. No – there's nothing glamorous or fun about this part for me. We've been playing The Waiting Game all year, and although good things come to those who wait, it's not so comforting when you don't have a choice in the matter.
On top of that, Now that we've relocated to the US, I feel as though I have to make a public announcement about something I had established abroad years ago. Admittedly, I rarely thematicize what I do professionally of my own volition, excepting very close friends and family. Since we've been stateside, I've been asked a few times what I intend to "do". Obviously, when you start over, you have to start over in every way. That includes employment. Usually, it takes too much effort to clarify, because I intend to do what I've been doing for years now. It's not a typical 9-5 thing; to use the official term for tax purposes, being a writer is an "Art Occupation". Moving from one continent to another and then cross-country won't change that.
But don't be deceived – this isn't an easy choice, and it's not always easy to follow through. I have plenty of bumps and scrapes and bruises, but battle scars are inevitable. Like many people, my profession has chosen me. I work my butt off doing what I love – reading by night, writing by day. Did I need a Ph.D. to do this? I guess so, because while doing that and working a traditional full-time job, what I loved most about it (besides my colleagues) was spending time after work conducting research and, oh yeah. Writing. Every night. Until 3 or 4 in the morning. Writing is a compulsion for me – it has been ever since I could hold a ridiculously large pencil in my hand. Seriously, that thing was like a wooden sword. I could wrap both of my hands around it. Ever since then, I truly believe the (slightly amended) quote attributed to Shakespeare: The pen is mightier than the sword – especially when used as a sword.
When it's a labor of love, you quickly repress the terror of birthing pains, so I've been told. I can equate my limited understanding of this to writing and producing novels. It's not just about creating a finished product. The entire process is beautiful, but it's not without effort, even if you can’t always see it. Believe me, it's a heck of a lot of work. I am forever grateful to my husband, who's been my biggest cheerleader, and my dear family and close friends who’ve been so supportive of me, my artistic ways and, ahem, mood swings for over a decade.
So, ask me what I do. (A lot.) Ask me where I work (Everywhere. Yesterday it was on a rooftop overlooking the Bay.)
Feel free to ask me about my workday, just as you would anyone else who works a typical 9 to 5. I'll be happy to share in a sentence or two, most likely without complaint (*gasp*). But, by all means, please refrain from asking me if I'm interested in getting a "real" job. I understand what you mean, but believe me, this is as real as it gets. It may not include health insurance or a 401K, but that's why you set up individual coverage, savings and retirement plans. Like you, I have good days and bad days at work.
When the day comes to a close, I'll drop my pen, shut off the electronics and enjoy a lovely California sunset. Tomorrow, I'll get back up and go to work: Create something out of nothing; make sure that it's good. Battle my inner critic, learn to love the product, package it, present it, and sell it. Stay sane. Repeat to infinity.
Have a great week. xoxo CountryEuroCityMouse
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