Yesterday I was called into the principals office.

For the record, that never gets easier, even if you’re a school employee. Even if you know that you aren’t in trouble.

It was time for me to sign my intent to return (or not to return) in the fall. I marked the little box next to the “I won’t be returning” option. I quit my day job.

I. Quit. My. Day. Job.

I’m taking my accidental entrepreneur show for serious. I’m going to write (and teach on my own terms) full time.

Quitting the day job is the dream of just about every single writer I know. I don’t actually know any other accidental entrepreneurs, but I’m pretty sure it’s the dream for a huge chunk of that demographic as well.

Here’s what I don’t want to happen: After the last day of school I spend months in my pajamas, thinking a lot about writing, but not actually getting anything done.

After all, I’m about to have what’s going to feel like a tidal wave of extra time. And I’m leaving the biggest distraction from writing on the playground. I feel like it could be fairly easy to drown in that kind of luxury.

I don’t want to drown. Or choke. Or screw this up.

I’m a little scared of how I’m going to respond to the sudden lack of pressure to do this work that I love under severe time/energy restraints.

I have a month of day job left. I’m going to use that time to make a plan for making sure I don’t suck at being a full-time writer and accidental entrepreneur.

Here’s how I’m going to do it.

Know What I’m Going to Work On

This seems like a no-brainer, but it’s not.

When June gets here and I find myself with access again to the seven hours a day, five days a week, that I’ve been selling for barely more than minimum wage, I need to know what I’m going to do with them.

Which book will I write?

Which course will I build?

Which blog posts will I create?

How am I going to make Ninja Writers even more awesome than it already is?

Treat My Passion Work the Same Way I Treat My Day Job

I show up at my day job.

I don’t let myself phone it in. Ever.

I do good work.

I go the extra step, out of a sense of pride.

All of that for a day job that I don’t hate, but that I have no sense of calling for.

If I can’t do at least that for this work that I’m dead passionate about, then I don’t deserve to do it at all.

Remember that I’m the Boss

No more principal’s offices, after June. I’m about to be accountable to only me. I’m not going to lie. That’s a little scary.

The key is to remember that writing is my passion. It’s my dream. But writing is also my job.

It’s my job to show up and do the work. What happens after that is so far out of my control that it’s barely worth worrying about.

It’s my job, as the Boss of me, to make sure the work gets done. If I tell good stories and give my best to the people who are putting their faith in me, everything else will work out the way it’s supposed to in the end.