Writing and Other Jobs

Towards the end of 2014, I found myself in the position I had long dreamed of: I was able to give up my day job and dedicate myself to writing.

It had been a whirlwind few months since winning the Bath Novel Award in June, meeting my wonderful agent Juliet Mushens and signing a two-book deal with Ebury.

It was a good time to take a step back from the hectic career in sales I’d had for 17 years. My son was still only 4 years old and had recently started school, and I craved more time with him. For a while I’d wanted to do work that was both more flexible and more meaningful, so I was already in the process of retraining as a counsellor.

I often look back at Autumn 2014, before I resigned, and wonder how I did it – I was working full time, I was a single parent and a student, and I was editing my first novel – and can only conclude that I didn’t sleep much, and I barely switched on the TV.

Something had to give, though: now I had a contract – and a deadline – for the second book, and my studies were only getting more demanding. So I took the plunge, and handed in my notice. When I reflect now I’m astonished by how easily I took such a huge step. I gave up the regular salary, company car, pension, and all the other cushions that had kept me in corporate life. And I felt thrillingly, deliciously free.

2015 began and I had a plan. I’d read that other writers had a routine, so I decided I would write from 9am to 3pm (in time for the school run!). I suddenly had the luxury of time, stretched out before me, yet the ‘working day’ routine never quite worked for me. Maybe years of snatching time to write when and wherever I could, working long into the night and early in the morning, had conditioned me to write in weird bursts of energy followed by fallow weeks, and even months, where not a lot really got done. That’s how my year as a ‘full time writer’ panned out too. I spent a lot of time looking out of the window or, as I liked to call it, ‘thinking about the book’.

Another strange thing was happening: I had a shiny new identity. I could ‘officially’ say I was a writer. Having won a prize, soon to be published – surely those things would make me feel validated. But it still felt an uncomfortable coat to wear. When people asked ‘What do you do?’ I would mumble, and skirt around the question. I was crippled by modesty, with a big dose of impostor syndrome. I was a writer, and yes people were paying me, and oh my God I was going to get found out.

2015 was a weird time, but a wonderful one (not least because I was able to have more time with my son – I could eat meals with him, during the week! – a small luxury, for which I’m still so grateful), but eventually, again, something had to give.

The money ran out, first of all, which it naturally will (unless you’re more prolific in your output than I am and sell more books than I do – maybe even then, I guess). But also, writing can be a lonely business. I’m not suggesting five-year-olds aren’t riveting, but their conversation can be a bit…well, limited. I needed, not just a more regular wage, but more human – adult – interaction.

So, I waitressed. Boy, did I get material there. And it was satisfying to do a different sort of job, on my feet, and to go home physically tired instead of mentally wrung out. I qualified as a counsellor, set up my own practice, and later got a great job using those skills working in bereavement care. I started helping other people find their own voices, both through delivering creative writing workshops and developing a novel critique and editing service.

So now I have the classic ‘portfolio career’. It’s hectic again, but everything I do is hugely satisfying. The down side is I have less time to write, but I’m more focused and do a bit less staring out of the window. This is absolutely not a comment on other full-time writers, by the way, merely an acknowledgement of my own flaws. I’ve found I need to have a lot going on to be productive. And I hope that the variety of experience I’ve had over the last few years makes what I do produce more interesting.

I still have impostor syndrome, a bit. It hasn’t helped when people say things to me like ‘Do you think you might go back to work?’ as though I’ve been playing all this time, and still am, despite the 5 or more jobs and the fact I probably work more hours now than I ever did. Just because I love my work, it’s still work. There’s still a stigma to having a career that doesn’t fit the 9-5, or is creative, or in the home. This needs to change, and fast, because more and more of us are taking this crazy, unpredictable, rewarding road.

I wouldn’t change the experience of the last four years, but it has definitely changed me. When people ask me these days ‘So what do you do?’, I give them a whole list of things, but funnily enough, at last, the first words out of my mouth are ‘I’m a writer’.

—

About HUSH LITTLE BABY

Tags: featured, women writers

Category: Contemporary Women Writers, On Writing