Dear Concerned Friends, Family Members and Judgmental Aquaintences
I just jumped at some pretty kick ass opportunities to network with other professionals. I didn’t have to choose freelance over fiction. I chose both.
I invested in myself to become a member of a professional organization. I had considered this before, but put it off. I put it off because I didn’t see the value, because I’ve always been the lone wolf, and because I couldn’t tell myself that I wasn’t a real writer once I joined. That’s not to say that I won’t struggle with impostor syndrome despite my membership. I will. I’m told that most writers do. That doesn’t mean that I should continue to go at it alone.
I will attend workshops, weekly group meetings, networking events and more. I can picture you rolling your eyes. Let’s call it continuing education for my field. I don’t have a boss to force me into these things. I’m making the choice because I know that to be successful, I need to further my understanding of my chosen profession. I need to surround myself with more experienced people, and learn from them.
Yes, I spent money on this, which brings me to my next point:
Stop worrying about my finances. The amount of money I make is none of your business. I am not responsible for feeding you, clothing you or otherwise making you happy. You don’t have access to my bank account and you don’t do my taxes. You have no idea how much I make, and you should stop assuming that you’ve got it figured out. I make money. That’s all you need to know.
I know you question my talent, motivation, dedication, and intelligence. Stop it.
I tell you about clients and projects in vague terms because I have to. I’m not being sketchy, lying or otherwise trying to put a good face on failure. Most of what I do is ghost writing. That means that no one should know that my client didn’t write it. It means that I can’t tell you about it. I walk a fine line with the vague details I do give. Lack of details does not equal lack of work. You can choose to believe that, or not. Your choice is no longer my problem.
There are months I have no clients, and that sucks. It doesn’t mean that I will never work again. It doesn’t mean that it’s time to get a job at Walmart. It also doesn’t mean that I’m sitting on my ass surfing Facebook. It means I have to re-evaluate how I do things and make necessary changes. It means I have to be brutally honest with myself. It means I have to work harder. My job isn’t just writing. It’s sending out emails to potential clients, engaging in social media, scouring job boards, using Google to determine potential clients to pitch, and more.
You’re not in the office with me. Stop assuming you know what’s happening in my professional life.
For that matter, stop assuming you know what’s happening in my personal life, too.
You think my husband is a saint because he works full-time, cooks meals on his days off, does the laundry, and goes everywhere with me? Congratulations, you’re finally right! He is a saint. I’m damn lucky that he chooses to share this life with me. He kicks my ass when I need it, and reminds me that I can accomplish anything I set my mind to. He believes in me completely, and I am beyond thankful for him. I know you worry, but trust me; he gets more sleep than you think he does. He is the reason I started this freelance life to begin with. No, I’m not going to explain that to you. If you don’t know the history of how this started, then it’s probably none of your business. He can share if he chooses, but I will not make that choice for him.
If you want to point me to the next ‘real’ job, question my financial situation, or pretend that I’m a lazy hack who makes my husband do everything, please exit stage left. I no longer have the energy to justify my decisions. Live your life. Be happy. I will continue to do the same with or without your support.
