Yes. It is.
First and foremost, it’s about the love of writing. The process of designing characters and delving into their stories. This is the only “job” I’ve ever had where it is fully acceptable to talk to yourself and make things up. I start a story and then the characters take over. I love character driven narrative. I like the natural flow of dialogue. I wrote recently about how I don’t want to steer the narrative, and it’s because it isn’t natural. I don’t tell my husband how to think and act (usually), so when my characters talk to me I try to let them have the floor. Sometimes they act really childish, other times they act a little crazy. Wait … they act like people.
So, yes, I write for the love of writing. It’s also a source of income for my family. A really, really small source, and I let myself get mad about it and defeated (because I haven’t talked about that a hundred times in the last year). I got in my own way again and all those voices, all that narrative came to a standstill. Until last week. Actually, it was meeting with our financial planner that changed something.
There’s truly something about hearing you contribute nothing financially to your household from the guy who’s in control of your barely there retirement funds that causes panic. Yeah, that’s a good word. I’ll make it more colorful – mother fucking panic, guys. I contribute nothing financially. I had a mild anxiety attack over it, maybe it was a little more crippling than “mild,” that caused me to lash out at my husband for playing video games instead of taking care of the baby who chooses not to sleep when I just want to pee alone. Five minutes to decompress from a day of feeling failure-ish.
That was me a week ago.
No, I haven’t become a millionaire since then. No, I haven’t become a best selling author. No, I didn’t find myself a sugar daddy … though that would be great as long as he just paid the bills and I got to keep my husband and not have to ever see or talk to said sugary person.
And I’m not giving up on writing. I’m just adding to my repertoire without having to also put my kids into daycare I can’t afford. Hopefully this jump into direct sales (Hi, I’m Miranda and I sell Origami Owl), will help with our bills. There are a bajillion authors who also work full-time jobs, so this is no different and I’m not really a pushy person so fear not! This isn’t going to turn into a sales pitch. I’ve just been a little more chill since I made the decision and wanted to share that with you.
The insane part of this is I signed on as an independent designer last Friday and last night I wrote … I wrote words that I didn’t then turn around and dissect because I just wanted the words on the paper and Tommy wanted to talk and Jacelyn wanted to have feelings and I wrote.
So, yes, when it comes to the process sometimes it does come down to money. I covet my stories, I relish in the freedom they give me, I dive in and submerge myself in a world that isn’t here. But the money they don’t make to support my family is a constant source of panic for me. Maybe I can remedy that. The Brockport Boys deserve my attention.