Working Girl

Occupation. My pen came to a stop as I considered what to write in the blank. The doctor’s waiting room was pretty full, and I suddenly feared that the girl next to me was looking over my shoulder to see what I would say. I wasn't so sure myself. I looked around as if about to commit a crime, or tell a lie. But it wasn’t a lie - a fantasy maybe - but not a lie. No, it wasn't a fantasy, I told myself. My first paycheck was proof of that. Finally, I took a deep breath and filled in the blank.

Writer.

I’m a writer. Not a magazine editor or journalist or novelist, not yet anyway, but I am a writer. To be more specific, a copywriter. It’s been kinda slow to start, and I only have a few clients, but I've been writing for brochures, ads, websites…I’m a copywriter.

Even now, I’m scared to commit to the title. What do I know about copywriting? Surely someone will find me out any minute now, right? But they haven’t yet, and perhaps the more I embrace my new occupation, the more I say, “I’m a writer,” the more convincing I will seem. Roger always says people will believe pretty much anything, as long as you say it with confidence (he happens to excel in this area - after five years, I'm still falling for it). So from now on, I will confidently announce that I’m a writer, and with those few words, everyone will think, “Oh, a writer – she must be good.”

Taking a break with two of my assistants...
Me working on my blog at Gary and Laurel's house.

Of course, one of the great things about being a writer is the ability to work from home. However, that particular perk isn’t so fabulous when your home life involves a psychotic mother-in-law. At least the work gives me a reason to hide upstairs all day, but it can be a bit lonely. Lucky for me, my brother-in-law owns an advertising agency (which happens to be my number one client) and has welcomed me to bring my laptop and work from the office. It’s exactly the kind of office you would expect a cool advertising agency to have – open space, loud music, action figures in the break room, weird light fixtures, rubber duckies in the conference room, a Zen garden out back. I love it, and just being around the people there makes me feel creative.

There’s one small problem, though. In my former life I was a real estate agent, so work began around ten-thirty, and I think this is a perfectly acceptable time for the work day to begin. (How can anyone possibly be productive before ten?) So, since I’m not a full-time employee – I’m not an employee at all – I usually stroll into the office mid-morning. I’m a freelance writer so I charge an hourly rate, and it’s not like I have that much to do. My rationalizations don’t matter. My good-girl guilt kicks in, and I feel embarrassed that everyone else has been working since eight-thirty, and where have I been? Of course, the guilt isn’t so overwhelming that I feel compelled to stay until five. Surely no one expects me to fight rush hour traffic, do they?

You can see that my six months of unemployment have spoiled me just a tad.

I left my job in Atlanta right before Christmas. It was perfect timing. I reaped the benefits of my December closings without going through the January/February slump. I also got to travel to Chicago, Mexico and Los Angeles, and still had plenty of time to pack up my belongings and organize my South African visa and do all the other crap that goes along with moving across the planet. I had plenty to keep me busy before we left, and since we’ve moved, well I’ve managed to keep myself occupied here as well. It’s amazing how much you can find to do. In fact, I often wonder how I got anything done when I was working those pesky forty hours a week. That’s the danger of unemployment (other than potential poverty and starvation, of course). The danger is once you stop working, it’s hard to start all over again.

Despite my questionable hours, I’m excited to be working again. After all, not working can be pretty hard on the self-esteem. A friend of mine is currently considering taking some time off from the working world. She’ll live off of her savings while she regroups and decides what her next move should be. I told her to go for it…I'd be quite the hypocrite if I didn’t encourage her to follow her heart, right? My only warning was to prepare a solid answer to the question, “What do you do?” and replying with, “Nothing,” is not a solid answer. “I’m between jobs,” is also not so good for quality conversation. Everyone complains about their jobs, but when it comes down to it, without our jobs we would not only be bankrupt, but also pretty boring. Just see how fast the conversation ends when you answer the job question with, "Nothing.” (Disclaimer: My comments exclude retired people and stay-at-home moms and dads. I'm sure they've racked up enough experiences to make them anything but boring.)

Now, when people ask what I do, I tell them I’m a writer. I usually blush a little and explain that I’m just getting started and it’s only part-time and my brother is pretty much my only client…but next time someone asks, I’m going to make a conscious effort to cut out the pathetic bit. Confidence, right? I’m a writer.

Let’s just leave it at that.