By Jenn Farrell
Wow, I’ve never felt less like writing than I do right now. My beloved grandma is dead, my daughter’s acting like a teenage delinquent, and I’m less than thrilled about turning 40 in a few days (the same day as Grandma’s funeral, if anyone’s keeping score). So writing this post is probably going to bring out the most miserable, self-indulgent side of myself.
But I guess that’s the thing that makes me a writer. I’d rather do just about anything else, but I’m sitting here because it’s my job and I have a deadline and I promised myself (and someone else) that I would it. So I’m doing it. I’m a spectacular fuck-up in a lot of ways, but I like to think that, at least at this one stinking thing, I am a woman of my word.
My topic is “things I wish I had known when I started my freelance career.” When I think back to Print Futures, nearly a decade ago, and our in-class visits from working freelancers, I remember that all of them confessed to feeling like they weren’t organized enough, or that they procrastinated too much, or some other fatal flaw that they thought wouldn’t make them well-suited to the work. Yet, somehow, they all managed rather well. This gave me hope. Surely if they could overcome their own bad habits, so might I one day.
I eased into my freelance career several years ago. I had been taking on odd gigs while working semi-full-time, and so I just gradually transitioned out of my office job and into my apartment. At first, I loved it. I wasn’t making much money, but I was optimistic about what I could accomplish, and the amount of time I’d have to work on my own short stories. I had just enough work to keep me entertained, most of my gigs where fairly steady, and soon enough, people were hearing kind things from other people and calling me up. This was a blessing, because I was an extraordinarily lazy freelancer. I never “hustled” or “cold-called” or “networked”. I didn’t make a chart of where things were going and when. I just stayed in my jammies, futzed around with a story or two, looked at my email, and waited for the phone to ring. (It should be said that not one minute of this would have been possible were it not for the beyond-generous emotional and financial support of my loving husband. My old “advice for freelancers” line was simply this: Marry well.)
But in 2009, things began to dry up. Regular gigs were thin on the ground. The phone didn’t ring as often. Clients either closed up shop or dramatically pared down their contract staff. And I just idly watched it happen. Luckily, I was working on my second book of fiction at the time, and it was providing more than enough distraction. But two maxed-out credit cards later the reality of my situation hit home. My finances were in a bad way, but worse, I was unhappy. Entire days passed in a haze of the same old nothingness. I couldn’t seem to get a handle on anything. I was listless, bored, depressed, and unmotivated. What the hell was the matter with me? It took some soul searching, and the answer was so simple as to be embarrassing. I was LONELY.
So now, six paragraphs later, I have new advice for the would-be freelancer. It’s not about whether you can hustle, or be super-organized, or get up and attack the day, or spend it entirely in your pajamas, or get most of your work done after midnight. Whatever kind of person you think you are, if this is the right line of work for you, you’ll find a way to shape your life around it. The one question I suggest you ask yourself is: can I stand being alone with myself that much?
Recently, I read an article that explained the differences between introverts and extroverts. Rather than a reductive shy/outgoing dichotomy, it suggested that introverts recharged from having time alone, whereas extroverts got fired up spending time with others. Therefore, if you enjoy the atmosphere of a busy office or classroom, then you might not be the ideal stay-at-home freelancer. When I think of my dream job, I imagine an office without walls, with lots of people I know milling about. I imagine brainstorming sessions, and excited arguments, and solving problems as a team. What I don’t imagine is sitting alone at my desk, wishing and waiting for someone to send me an email so I’d have someone to talk to, something to do.
At least half of my job is writing fiction, and fiction writing is lonely work. So lonely, in fact, that I will often invent any number of elaborate reasons to avoid it. There’s something about it that’s like descending into a mine shaft—once I’m finally down there, I can get to work unearthing things and lose myself in the process. But every time I think about that taking that damn elevator into the darkness, I want to run and hide.
So why on earth did I think that adding more loneliness to my life was a good thing? I wish I knew. I guess I thought it would help me focus. Now I know that, for me, focus comes from going out into the world and connecting with others. It’s then that I can come home, full of energy and ideas and inspiration. It’s then that I can appreciate some time on my own, a little breather from always wanting to be the life of the party. Luckily, I found the perfect thing. I’ve started teaching in the last couple of years, and it gives me so much joy, I can’t even tell you. Talking about writing and helping others feels like the closest thing I’ve ever had to a “calling.”
So goodbye, freelance career. I’ll still pick up odd jobs here and there, and my teaching is essentially contract work anyway. In actuality, not a lot has changed except my attitude. Now when I have time alone, I’m doing one of two things: going down into the dark recesses of my brain for stories, or planning the next thing that will get me out of the chair and back into the world again.
Jenn Farrell is the award-winning author of two collections of short stories, Sugar Bush & Other Stories and The Devil You Know. In addition to being an author, she teaches fiction classes at Langara College in Vancouver and also offers one-on-one coaching. [Heidi's note: Jenn is also one of the most supportive writers you'll meet. She used to come in as a guest speaker to Print Futures: Professional Writing Program when I was a student there. I've also worked with Jenn a few times--and had coffee with her--and I think she is just wonderful.]
