Nervy Girl magazine contacted me a bit ago saying that they might want to run another article in their next magazine. I felt extremely excited over this for several reasons. One was because of the feedback I had received from their readers - it was very powerful to me. I heard numerous stories of women who were either going through what I was going through or from women who felt I was the push they needed to start their own adventure. The second reason I was excited was because it meant that my writing was doing something - it was out there having this life and affecting others. And that, in turn, meant I was doing something.

With two articles behind me, the possibility of a few more, I felt that I was finally getting somewhere after months of wandering. Even though I have a lot more road to travel, it seems exciting now rather than daunting.

I finally feel that I am now a writer instead of a wannabe.

I realise now that this is all happening because I’ve chosen for it to. I’ve made the effort, I’ve showed up, I’ve done the work, I made the calls. That has made me feel a sense of accomplishment like nothing else. I no longer sit and wait for someone to hand me everything. No emulating, no wishing, no trying to figure out the keys to others success because I’m working on my own.

Before all of this, I used to glaze over the thousands of books in a bookstore and scrunch my nose. “How did they get published?” I’d open up a magazine and think to myself, “I could have written better than that. How did they get in there?” Then there’d be the times where I’d see some writings of a writer I admired and think “How did they do that? I’ll never be able to do that.

Then one day, it dawned on me why the bad writers were published, why the authors in the bookstores had their books and how the good writers wrote brilliant articles. They simply did.

I realised the only difference between them and myself, was that I just thought about writing and they actually took charge and did something. So one day I stopped just thinking about writing and began writing and doing.

That was the magic. That was the secret each of those published people had. And now I knew it.

I always thought that published people had something I didn’t have and that they were in a separate league than I. But I have realised that people are people are people and those that have success have it not because of a special potion they rubbed on themselves but because they pursued something.

Maybe it’s too early to tell. Maybe it’s another on of my ploys where I trick myself into thinking I’m doing good and then slack off later on. Maybe, though, this time is different.

I got up this morning and was tired and cranky from a bad sleep. I had a million thoughts running through my brain and none of them had to do with articles. I thought, ‘What do I do? How do I work, be creative, pack for the move, take care of the house, run the errands and fit eating all in twenty four hours?’ It was only 7am and already I felt overwhelmed.

Then I remembered I had prepared for this yesterday and went to the palm, flicked on its screen and there, in perfect order, was my list of to do’s. Not having to think about my day made getting on with it easier, and one by one I began to tackle each to do on my list.

Breakfast was cooked, yoga was done, tea was drunk, and being irritable was over with. The next task on my list was work. Work as work on my portfolio, work on articles, work on content, work on marketing - whatever. As long as it had to do with my career, now was the time to do it. At first, I actually resisted starting on the task of working. The strange thing was because I had it scheduled my mind changed it’s opinion about work. Even though I had worked countless hours without complaining before, now, seeing it as a task, as an appointment, my mind started to think it was just plain old work with no room for creativity. A part of me actually didn’t want to start. I actually didn’t want to go to work. There was only one thing to do about this and so I dragged myself over to the desk, sat myself in front of the computer and just began.

I started to do a little typing here and there. I started on some design work for the new sites. I started to make a list of books I needed to get and did some research on some new magazines. Before I knew progress was being made, stories were shaping up, and the portfolio was coming along slowly. Then I noticed that I was hungry and thought about lunch. But lunch is so far away, I thought. Then I looked at the clock and three hours had passed without me knowing it.

I was proud of myself to just do some work even if I didn’t feel creatively inspired in the beginning. Normally if I didn’t feel like working, I didn’t. I thought because I was the boss and without deadlines, it was OK to not work when the creativity wasn’t blooming or my brain just didn’t want to function. I realise now that even if I don’t feel creative or feel like I have the ability to write something just then, that sitting at the computer doing a little bit of work on this and that helps to get the juices flowing. Then in no time, my brain is working overtime with more ideas than I can count and I’m working like mad and actually enjoying it.

I’ve heard of countless writers’ say there are two very important things to do with regards to writing. One is to show up each day and the second is to just write and write no matter what. I did both today and I can safely say that it worked. I kicked my own arse into gear and it felt good.

I’ve been keeping the creative side completely separate from the work side, I realise that now. But after thinking about it, I didn’t feel so bad because I realised that that’s just how I had grown up. That the two were separate.

As a child, you have playtime. That is different than regular classes and regular work. It’s a period that’s set aside for just pure imaginative play. As you age, that playtime becomes more limited and the worktime becomes more regular. Then in high school, you’re told to not waste time playing around, that you need to work more and think linear if you want to get anywhere in life. Then when you’re out of school, it seems that all you do is work and be responsible. When was the last time you saw a grownup playing pretend on their own that wasn’t in some institution?

So I realised today that they had just been separate entities, and that if I were in one mode, I’d fight off the other. But I can’t do that anymore, I have to blend them. Otherwise, nothing gets done.

One way I’ve done this is to schedule my arse off. This despite the fact that up until now I have never successful made a to do list and followed it. Regiments have always put me off. But I’m determined to try it this time or I’ll have all this stuff floating in my head that can overwhelm me, and then I tend to not do any of it.

I was lucky in that Chris’ work gave him a new Palm Pilot, and since he already had one he gave it to me. I spent a lot of yesterday scheduling appointments for myself and writing tasks to do. Sort of a routine of sorts.

In the mornings, I’ve scheduled my yoga, my breakfast, my reading and general laziness. Then, from 10am until 3pm I’ve scheduled work. This isn’t really too hard because this has been my routine thus far. But to see work scheduled from 10am to 3 is really good, because from that time, I can’t do the dishes, I can’t run errands, I can’t goof off. That is my time to work. Somehow seeing it, written down, just makes it more real, and I find that especially important since I am working at home where doing other things seems all to easy to do.

From 3 until 6 I have my goof time. This is cafe time, walk time, chat with friends, run errands, nap, read, whatever. That gives me permission each day to just be. Where the creative sparks can come without guilt whatsoever. This is also important, because sometimes if I’m just reading, I feel guilty. Like I should be working on my portfolio or sending out articles.

From 6pm onwards is whatever time - dinner, chores, sleep, walk, laundry, time with Chris, whatever.

I’m not sure how well this will work, to be honest. I’ve tried to make some kind of structure that will work with my personality and my way of doing things, and I think for the most part, this is pretty good. I had to do something because just being creative all day wasn’t selling anything, and just working all day to sell something wasn’t helping with my creativity.

At least now when people ask me to do things I have to think twice. I might just have to say, “I can’t make it this time, I’m working.” To which they might reply, “But I thought you worked from home and you can do anything, anytime?” “Not today,” I’ll say, “I have an appointment.”

Whoever coined the term “starving artist” knew what they were talking about.

My last three jobs were for Big Corporate America and in those jobs I had a very nice salary that came at the exact same time twice a month. With that salary I didn’t have too many financial concerns because all of our living expenses were met with Chris’ salary. The money I earned was travel, home, friends, family and our savings account.

However, now that I am working for myself in a creative field where paycheques aren’t given every other week, budgeting is crucial. Without the addition of a secure second income, money is tight and what is wanted is completely different than what is needed.

I had signed up for a painting class that was to start tomorrow. I was terribly excited because this would be my very first ever art class and I really believed this would help me with my creativity, especially since the class was called, “Painting - Passion and Process.” Yet today I cancelled the class because I couldn’t afford the supplies on the supply list.

Although I live comfortably in a home that’s nice and has food in the fridge, there are moments when things like cancelling an art class, or not being able to buy a needed book, or forgoing certain supplies makes me frustrated. It shouldn’t be about the money, I keep telling myself, it should be about how I feel. But reality comes along and knocks my idealised arse to the ground and I’m left sitting on the floor feeling like I’m not contributing financially. That all the work and effort I’ve poured into all of this since April has no meaning because I haven’t made a penny.

I was ok with not making money in the beginning because I just wanted to be published have something behind me. That’s why I sent articles to magazines that didn’t pay as I was just hoping that I could get my start somewhere. And I did - I became published in two non-paying magazines. The money wasn’t an issue then because I was gaining a little confidence and getting published.

But now if I am calling this my living, shouldn’t I be making a living? At what point does it go from work to hobby? I feel that I have been at this long enough that I should be selling my work now. Perhaps it’s just an ego thing as well, because for some reason, despite being proud of published, despite having enormously wonderful feedback and support from this site, I feel embarrassed to admit I haven’t made a penny. It’s especially hard because people always ask how much I make. Their curious to know what kind of salary a freelance writer has. And frankly, so am I.

When should money matter? Money is such an issue, which is why I suppose no one ever talks about it. In every book I’ve ever read about living your dream and being true to yourself, not once do any of them mention money. The closest I ever heard was “do what you love and the money will follow.” I’ve accomplished part one, now I’m just waiting for part two.

Perhaps I’m just not working hard on the money side of it. Maybe because my focus was so intense on just getting comfortable and getting out there, that I just didn’t look at the money side.

Now it’s time to look, hard.