I've been talking about this in a couple of corners of my life, and putting various ducks in the appropriate rows, so it's probably time to post about it here, too: I'm making a life decision in 2015 to start prioritizing my creative work.
I've been thinking about this for a while.
My ideal life situation isn't so much "only write and nothing else and give up working for other people altogether" so much as it's "if I could do this for 40 hours a week, and then work some random-ass job for 20 hours a week to maintain some steady income to keep me afloat and get me out of the house, that would be awesome."
It's easy to get addicted to the creature comforts that 40 hours a week in an office can provide. It's secure to keep being a vested employee with a retirement account and dental and so on. From various reasonable perspectives it's smarter to stick around, to defer, to wait until the thing that gets attention after hours becomes sustainable on its own.
Almost two years ago, this plan would be unthinkable. I was doing everything I could to try and keep a sinking ship afloat in the Foreclosure House. When we gave up and moved on -- assisted in that choice by a violent incident in our neighborhood and our reason for moving into the house ceasing to be a factor -- I had a lot of holes to climb out of.
I'm out of most of the urgent holes and chipping away at the less urgent ones. My life stopped feeling like one long emergency a little while back. I'm sleeping. I'm functioning. I'm in a supportive, multi-income household.
I realized, as I neared my birthday, that I'm tired of trying to cram career effort into a hobby-sized space. I'd rather spend a few hours a week slinging fries or coffee or whatever, and then focus 40 hours a week on writing, reviving my Etsy shop, and continuing my work getting back into visual art.
I'm 35. For the first time in my adult life, I've got a reliable safety net. If not now, when?
So I put in my notice at the job where I've worked for nearly eleven years. The 27th is my last day as a full-time member of the conventional adult world.
I'm nervous. I'm excited. I am hoping I'll be able to make rent in April. Er.
So yeah. Wish me luck.
(Oh, and if you're in town and know someone who needs a dog walker...)