Letting Go to Move Forward

One of the most prevalent pieces of advice shared with budding writers is, "don't quit your day job."

When I started taking my writing dreams seriously three years ago, I cemented this advice as a hard rule I would never abandon. I would keep my day job, and maybe leave it behind in 5-10 years, should I be fortunate to have a prolific and profitable writing career at that point.

But the thing about advice is that most of it is not one size fits all, and over the past year and a half, the pull between my heart/passion (writing) and my day job was creating more and more unhappiness and tension in my soul (and life).

So, I recently did the thing you're not supposed to do: I quit my day job.

Putting it matter of factly like that makes it sound easier than it was. In reality, this was a hard decision, one I'd been weighing for years. My job allowed for me and my husband to have a comfortable lifestyle. I had a team of colleagues that I loved and enjoyed working with. I was good at my job and my success was rewarded. I had an established internal brand, with a 13 year career at one of the most admired tech companies in the world. 

How could I leave that for the maybe chance that I could sell a book? How could I leave that behind for what would be years of little to no income from my writing?

The answer was, I couldn't afford NOT to leave it behind. Not in the financial sense, but in relation to the expense taken on my mind, soul, and body. The tension between where my heart was calling me, a writing career, and where I was spending the majority of my time and mental energy, became too much. The longer I kept myself in that tug of war, the more my mental and physical health declined.

I knew what I had to do, but before I could commit to (and importantly, accept) my decision to leave, I first had to let go.

• I had to let go of a situation that didn't serve me anymore

• I had to let go of what I thought my career should be

• I had to let go of who I thought I was supposed to be

• I had to let go of needing validation from others 

• I had to let go of striving for society's definition of success

• I had to let go of the fear of failure

• I had to let go of my plans

I had to let go so I could move forward.

I recognize the immense privilege I have to be able to leave my job to pursue writing full time. I also recognize the hard work I've put in to take this time for me and my dreams. I recognize the support I have from my husband to make this happen. I am fortunate, grateful, and blessed.

Celebrating after my last day of work. As one of my favorite Star Trek crews would say, here’s to the journey. Cheers!

And while the overall tone of this post is reflective and a bit somber, I can assure anyone reading this that amidst the anxiety and fear, there is unbridled enthusiasm for what's ahead. Celebrating the end of one chapter and the start of another with my family and friends has brought nothing but joy, smiles, and a few happy/sad tears. Writing this post, exclaiming to the world that I am unapologetically going after my dreams, makes me feel proud. It makes me feel energized and empowered to put in the work to make my dreams come true.

Taking a cue from nature, the timing of this transition is poetic. Autumn is often called the season of letting go because this is the time when trees lose their leaves. But what many don't know is trees proactively lose their leaves (think, "cut" them off) in order to ensure their survival through winter. Come spring, trees grow new leaves to feed and nourish them, and the cycle continues. 

Like the trees, I’m proactively letting go, so I can move forward and give myself the opportunity to grow. Many thanks to everyone who has helped make this possible. I appreciate your love, support, and encouragement. <3

Water Where You Want to Grow

The other day, I met with one of my critique groups over video chat, and someone (knowing the day job has been busy) gently asked, “Have you been able to write?”

I thought about the past couple of months, and I sadly and shamefully answered, “No.”

My day job has been busy. Beyond busy. I’m working more hours, and after the work is (never) done, I’m mentally and physically drained. It’s a constant struggle to find space for my creative headspace (see blog post from last summer). 

But then, as things tend to happen, one of my sweet friends sent me this quote, completely unrelated to my writing struggle:

“When a flower doesn’t bloom, you fix the environment in which it grows, not the flower.” - Source: according to the internet, lots of people, but (maybe?) Alexander Den Heijer 

I was struck by the imagery, but also by another thought: I’m not watering the places in my life where I want to grow.

My first thought was about writing, of course, and how I’m not spending time actually, you know, WRITING. But this could apply to other things, like working out (which I’ve all but abandoned in the past few weeks), or meditating or cooking more than reheating meals… the list could go on and on. 

How could I become a career writer when I’m not spending time helping that part of my life grow?

Water Where You Want to Grow

The text from my friend also made me curious about actual gardening. I did not inherit my mother’s green thumb. Our garden out front survives, more than it thrives. So, I looked up what it takes to grow a plant:

• Sunlight

• Air

• Proper Temperature

• Moisture

• Nutrients

Notice, it’s not one thing. It’s five things. And taking a deeper look, there’s more to these five things than appears:

• Quality, quantity, duration of light influences growth

• Plants need healthy root systems in order to carry the water, nutrients, and oxygen to their stems, leaves, and blooms

• The texture of soil influences the amount of air, water, and nutrients it holds, and plants need 16 or 17 different nutrients (depending on the resource you cite) to grow

What did I learn from this research? You can’t just pour water on a plant and expect it to grow to its full potential. It takes more than one element to enable a plant to stretch its leaves to the sky and bloom. 

Which means, I can’t just write new stuff all the time and expect to grow to my full potential as a writer. It takes more than getting words on a page to become the writer I want to be.

With this in mind, I thought back more objectively, and broadly, on the past couple of months.

Have I worked on revisions? Yes. 
Have I worked on story pitches? Yes. 
Have I read in the genres that I want to write? Yes. 
Have I critiqued other people’s work? Yes. 
Have I researched potential agents? Yes.
Have I put my work “out there?” Yes.
Have I nourished my mind, body, and soul in other ways to welcome creativity in? Yes. 
Have I read for pleasure? Yes. 
Have I talked about my stories with others? Yes.
Have I connected with my writing community? Yes.
Have I had fun thinking about my stories, my characters, and my many, many plot holes? Yes.

Actual flowers in my garden… THRIVING!

So while I gave my critique partner a quick and confident, “no,” the other day, the answer should have been “YES.” Maybe I’m not pouring superfood onto a blank page and watching it shoot to the sky. But I am attending to my writing like a garden. I’m making the soil more fertile. I’m pulling the weeds. I’m making room for the sunshine, and I’m soaking in the life giving rain.

Often we have a tunnel vision view of what doing that thing (like writing) successfully means. Sometimes that makes us feel like we are never doing the thing we want to do, we’re not doing it well enough, or we never have time to invest in it fully.

But the truth is, just like there’s more than one way to help a plant grow, there’s more than one way to help ourselves grow in the ways we want to grow. Even if it seems small, acknowledge what you’re doing, do what you can do, and give yourself grace. Know you’re tending your garden in the best, and many ways, you can. And over time, and with the right amount of luck, someday you and your garden will bloom and flourish to your full potential.