Currency

I was feeling positively abysmal yesterday when I started thinking of how much money I make each year.

This might be enough to make anyone down in the dumps, regardless of how many figures are in her salary, because we live in a culture where more is never enough and less is cause for despair. But it got me thinking about the kinds of currency we use to measure our lives.

In July of 2010, I left my corporatesque job with an academic/trade publisher to become a partner in a small, custom-publishing company founded by a dear friend and decade-long professional colleague. It was a leap of faith: I knew it wouldn't be as grand financially or come with benefits (no 401(k), no PTO), but it had other benefits. I would work from home. I would not be required to work mandated hours, fill out a time card, or make requests for time off. I could take some time off every day, if desired. I could work 7 days a week if I wanted. I would be trusted to make decisions and work independently. I would have ownership of the company and my work. I would have a say. I would be allowed to be fully myself.

And in addition to a modest weekly check, I'd have my health insurance paid for, which ended up being key when I needed to have foot surgery. (It is extremely helpful to be able to recover from foot surgery when you have a home office and have no need to leave your house to go to work.) And I'd have partial ownership in the company, increasing every year, as well as extra income depending on how many projects came in. I'd get to do the writing on some of those projects, finally.

I love my work. I no longer feel that I have a job. I have work. It is meaningful, interesting, fulfilling, sometimes mundane and frustrating, at times incredibly stressful, but I never regret making this choice. My worst day now is better than my best day at my last job. There are so many other ways I'm compensated for making this choice.

Why, then, did I allow myself to feel down in the dumps when I thought about the fact that I make less now than I did at the corporatesque job that nearly drove me to insanity? (And I don't mean that entirely metaphorically, as staying there much longer would likely have driven me to a therapist.) Why, when my husband did some calculating and told me that based on a 40-hour work week, what I make hourly averages out to a sum that is a little more than minimum wage, did I feel a roiling in my gut?

Why do we allow ourselves to put a numerical value on what we do? Why do we let dirty green paper dictate our worth, our contribution to society, our mood when we get out of bed?

I don't, usually, and in fact, since I started this work in July 2010, I've never once paused to think about things in these terms. Instead, I've delighted in the fact that I work at home, set my own hours, am valued and trusted by my partners, and no longer feel dread when thinking about the answer to people's question, "What do you do?" I am glad that working at home meant I could heal from my foot surgery in comfort, work during hours that are most productive (hello, nighttime!), take time each day to relax, ease into the day, cook myself lunch. I don't feel guilty or like I'll have a pissed-off boss on days when I'm less productive. I don't count down the hours to Friday or feel soul-shattering dread on Sunday nights. I usually greatly enjoy the things on my to-do list.

Sometimes I get lonely and wish I had colleagues to chat with. Sometimes I have to remind myself to get up and leave the house for a while. Sometimes I am so relieved that I don't have to deal with anyone else's bullshit or printouts or memos or meetings that I could weep in relief. Most days I don't, but on occasional days, I do wear pajamas at my desk. (Today is one of them.)

People are often interested in hearing more about what I do. They think it sounds cool. They think it sounds challenging. They are wistful that they don't work at home, or alternately, in awe that I work at home because they don't think they could ever have the discipline to do it. (Secret: it's mostly not about discipline, but that's a post for another day.) 

I am thrilled that I'm finally living my dream of writing and working for a publisher that produces meaningful work and am free of the lunacy of a 9-to-5 office structure. So why use my paycheck as a yardstick to measure my days? I thought about it for a while, and it made me feel bad, and when my husband reminded me of all the things I love about my work life, and how he'd take a pay cut if it meant having the freedom and fulfillment I have, I realized he was right. I realized that dollars are a bad way to value what we do. When you don't dread sitting at your desk, when you feel fulfilled at least a bit every day, when you think of it as work you want to do and not just a job you have to do, you have won. You have all the riches you could desire. You have a life that is priceless.

Whether it is a hobby, a job, a family role, or a cause you passionately support, what brings joy and meaning to your days should be measured in spiritual, emotional, or mental currency. Don't measure the worth of your days by your paycheck. 


It seems obvious, but it clearly bears repeating. Sometimes it's good to remind our minds of what our hearts already know.

The prodigal blogger

My husband told me recently that he missed my blog.

My heart softened like butter.

I abandoned/walked away from/got too busy for this blog about a year ago, actually almost exactly a year ago when I was in the midst of planning a wedding and writing a book and having/recovering from foot surgery. I figured I had too much going on and I convinced myself I had nothing to write about, nothing worth penning, nothing anyone would care to read anyway.

Now I'm in the midst of a crazy editing deadline and am in the process of writing my second book and am apartment-hunting and have been too busy to cook or clean or do much of anything fun, even read a book. Now I am married and walking on two feet and a published author (well, collaborator, anyway). And I realize that I'll always be busy and in the midst of stuff, so why not hop to it and get writing? Why not make time for writing? Why not make it a priority to do the thing I've wanted to do since I was 5 years old and firmly decided that nothing else in the world could ever be as awesome as writing?

So here I am. Back. Unsure of how to proceed or what to say, but dedicated to writing it, all thanks to the partner by my side, who believed enough in me to think that what I have to say is worth the space.

The butter to my bread, the breath to my life. 

Back to the blog again

It's been two months since I last updated this, and I haven't written since then for a number of reasons. I was pretty busy over the holidays, we had some things to deal with at work and we're only getting busier, I've been doing some volunteer and freelance work on top of it, and I've also been doing some wedding planning work. Not to mention doing a bit of experimenting in the kitchen. And dealing with a rather bad case of the doldrums, or winter blues. But these aren't the only things that have been keeping me from writing. For a while there, I just didn't really feel like indulging in the openness that blogging entails. I felt like insulating myself, like turning inward and just sort of staying put, physically and emotionally.

There's also been something else holding me back from blogging. Obviously one of the things that will increasingly take up more and more of my time is wedding planning, and at first I thought I wanted to share all the details--good, bad, and ugly--on this blog with anyone happening to read it. But then I realized just how personal and emotionally charged a lot of wedding planning really is, especially since Jeremy and I are going about it in a somewhat unconventional way. And I realized that I don't necessarily want to put all of that out there, for everyone to read.

Not to mention that probably not that many people would be interested in reading it, since it's not like everyone is constantly thinking about weddings.

And not to mention that there are countless other wedding blogs out there. 

And not to mention there is a lot more to life than just weddings.

I've been writing about my planning experience on the site Offbeat Bride, which has a private online community section for other people also actively planning their weddings. It's been great to connect and vent and brainstorm and get suggestions with thousands of other women who are going through just the same thing.

For a while I was considering just quietly letting this blog disappear, figuring that maybe sometime in the future I'd come back to it, or just start over again with a new blog entirely. But I was recently talking to a friend who also writes a blog and who updates it quite frequently and she gently recommended that I should consider picking up the blogging again. And I do like having an outlet where I can write regularly. So I think I'll give it another shot and see where it takes me. I'm not exactly sure what sorts of things I'll write about in here. I guess we'll all have to stay tuned and find out!

NaNoWriMo

So for the past week or so, I'd been thinking of participating in NaNoWriMo. For those who mistakenly think I just spasmed while typing, rest assured: I'm convulsion free; this is just an abbreviation of National Novel Writing Month. I didn't have terribly long to decide, because NaNoWriMo starts in November, which somehow, inexplicably, is just 3 days away. Seriously, how is it almost November? How is 2010 almost over? Anyway.

You have 30 days to write a novel that is at least 50,000 words long. Obviously most people just use this as an exercise in getting themselves into the practice of writing regularly (a very commendable thing), but some people really do take it seriously and I'm sure many folks actually get a good bulk of usable material out of it.

Why would I subject myself to the insanity (because let's face it, that's what it is) of trying to write 50,000 cohesive words in 30 days? Partly it's because I've sort of always wanted to try NaNoWriMo. Partly it's because November is my birthday month and that makes me excited. But for the most part, because I've been doing NO writing for myself, other than this blog (and even that petered out for a few months there), for the past FIVE YEARS. It's pretty sad, but I've just not made time for myself and my writing projects, even though I love writing and have wanted to write a book since I was 5 years old. I'm one of those people who has a half-finished novel languishing in a drawer somewhere, except that it's not even close to being half finished and it's not in a drawer, just on my hard drive. So I have to do SOMETHING. Honestly, what do I have to lose? Even if I fail to meet the word count, the time I spend writing won't be a waste because it'll be time I used to write, getting my brain and body used to the feeling of putting words down.

This is why I have just signed up to participate. I suppose I am certifiably insane. Or as certifiably insane as the thousands of other people who have signed up for this.

But this is a year that seems particularly significant to me. I've started a job doing what I really love, I'm feeling comfortable about myself emotionally and physically, I'm turning 30. I'm finally starting to feel like I get it. Like things are falling into place somehow. It's tough for me to describe (which must mean something, since I'm a writer and descriptions are my job), but I just have this feeling that is saying, yes, go ahead and do this crazy thing! So I've gone ahead and done it. Hopefully I will be feeling sane enough to actually post regular updates on here about how I'm doing with this.

If you want to join in the insanity, click on the link in the first paragraph and join in the wackiness. Insanity loves company, right? At least when it's the insanity related to writing a novel in a month.

Now I just have to figure out what to write about...