For years, I have sought to earn a living doing what I love. I have been ~ among other things ~ a professional writer, a photographer, a web designer and developer. I have put my intellect, such as it is, and my creative energies up for sale.

Again and again I have burned out in one occupation and moved on to convert a current enthusiasm into a profession. I have relentlessly sought to get paid for doing what I enjoy, only to have the pleasure gradually drain out of it until it became a task, an obligation, and finally an intolerable burden.

I grew up in a family where the creative and intellectual life were held in highest esteem. There was a great deal of unspoken snobbery around the value of earning one's living in those high pursuits. A fair amount of it was smoke and mirrors; if we'd actually had to survive on income generated entirely from creative efforts we'd have starved. My mother had family resources that allowed us to live a middle class lifestyle. And both of my parents taught to provide us with regular income. But as a child I didn't realize those things. I bought the family mythology hook, line, and sinker.

I was also the subject of a lot of speculation by people who expected me to go far: one high school evaluation (not written for my eyes, but that's another story) said "I expect Pascale will distinguish herself in print within ten years." I was given prizes, fellowships, awards ~ each one upped the ante that much more, made me feel that even more was expected of me.

I have relished the cachet of being an "artist/outsider" in a society that both admires and disdains people who play outside the rules. I have taken satisfaction in supporting myself (albeit modestly) as a self-employed creative. I have enjoyed the license of being different, and yet part of the professional class.

I have sold my brains, I have sold my ideas, I have sold my vision, my persuasiveness, and my enthusiasm. And I have turned my best impulses into a commodity which, ultimately, has become a practice I despise.

Today, I find myself once again at a crossroads. For me, the fun has gone completely out of my current business. I'm good at it. I have happy clients (although the current economy has made them scarcer than I'd like at the moment); my word of mouth report is excellent. And I'm miserable. I want out in the worst way.

As always, I've looked at my current interests and considered them as possible foundations for a new career. My participation in the life of my church, for example. Perhaps I should go to seminary? My jewelry-making class: maybe I should become a jeweler?

No no no. I'm not going to make the same mistake again. I'm going to guard the activities I love with zeal. I'm going to keep them the hell out of the marketplace. I need to keep some things sacred ~ sacred and fun.

It's time to find a way to earn my living doing something that doesn't require my best energies, my heart's blood. I need to find a livelihood where my relentless perfectionism doesn't drive me to excel to the point where I keep getting promoted, acquiring more and more responsibility, so that ultimately my work eats my life. I want to go to work, do the work with focus and dedication, walk out the door at the end of my shift and live my life. I want a job where I don't feel called to fix everything, to solve all the problems.

November will be my last month in my office space. I will finish this one last current web contract and wrap up any loose ends in my business. I will seek and find work that I can leave at work at the end of the day, preferably something that requires little to no intellectual or creative effort.

In November, I will participate in NaNoWriMo. I will do the things I enjoy without trying to figure out a way to get paid enough for them to live on the proceeds. I will stop caring whether or not my livelihood looks interesting or prestigious. If my friends are embarrassed by my work, then the heck with them. I have nothing to prove anymore. I'm smart, I'm creative ~ I don't need for my paycheck to validate those propositions. If it freaks my family out, too bad for them. I know how to survive on a modest income, and god knows there's plenty more I can cut back on if I need to. I already have everything I need to lead a happy and meaningful life. (It would be nice to have health insurance, sure, but I'll survive.)

I'm getting off the achievement train. I'm no longer going to look to the marketplace for my success, even the rarified marketplace of the arts. I'm giving up on the concept of "making my mark." It will be enough for me to be valued in the lives of my friends, to contribute in some modest way to the betterment of my community, and to enjoy the passage of time.

If I make something wonderful, great. It will have been made because I enjoyed making it, and other people will know about it because I felt moved to share it with them. If I wind up selling some of it, that will because people want it and it will help support the process of making more, NOT because I need it to survive. I am going to play more, and worry less about whether what I'm doing is important.

I can't emphasize enough how difficult it has been for me to get to this point. It feels as if I'm rewriting my entire identity. I'm letting go of a huge chunk of my self-image, and it makes me feel naked and vulnerable. It's also a huge relief. Wish me luck.

[I'd like to acknowledge three people from my life online who have, perhaps unwittingly, helped me reach this juncture: Mad William Flint (aka Michael Wilson), Sour Bob, and Commander Dave (Dave Rogers). I am also blessed with good and kind friends in my daily life who I know and trust will love me no matter what I do. I also want to extend a deep gassho to my parish community and to my therapist, Kat. Thank you all.]
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