You ask, we answer: Help me quit my job!
Kate asks, “Since reading the Renegade Writer, I continually check the site (and re-read the book) for the inspiration to quit my boring, stressful job and turn my writing endeavors from mere moonlighting to full-throttle freelancing. Truly, the inspiration is there. What I need are the *guts* (or balls, depending on how you see it). Your post (and my boss’s disapproving look whenever I skulk in a minute late) may be all the convincing I need. Since reading the book this past fall, I’ve tried earnestly to revamp my freelancing career, which I surrendered for want of “security.†The lady who owns my favorite coffee shop, who I see every morning on my miserable trudge to work, said, “Well, honey. What’s your price tag?†And that’s what it comes down to. My guts and my price tag. I don’t want to quit willy-nilly, nor live as a pauper (who can’t afford to talk to the coffee lady any longer). When do I know it’s time to quit? I’m not making even close to 75% of my regular income via my freelance work, but I don’t do as much freelance work because my day job exhausts me. It feels like a cruel Catch-22. I’m beginning to score some pretty high-paying gigs for big glossy magazines, but I’m not close to sustaining myself yet. When is it safe to freelance full-time, or should I throw caution to the wind?”
I wrote a really good answer this question on Tuesday, and wouldn’t you know it? WordPress hiccupped and I lost the whole post. I was so p.o.’d, I had to calm down by watching Jennifer Garner kick ass for 48 minutes. Try watching Alias on your computer when Boss Man’s wanting those cover sheets stapled to his TPS reports. (Ok, it was during my lunch break, but you get the picture.)
There’s never a right time to do anything. You could lose your regular job tomorrow. When you quit to go freelance, that’s when the magazine industry could have an advertising sales crisis like no other. There are simply no guarantees.
That’s my flip answer. My thoughtful answer would be to sit down with a notebook and start writing down all your questions and fears about going full-time freelance. You mentioned you’re not close to making 75 percent of your income through freelancing. Will leaving your job give you the time to make up that difference? Do you really need 100 percent of that income to live comfortably? Are you motivated enough to make up that difference once you quit? Some people really struggle with those first three months of freelancing: they slack off and figure tomorrow’s another day, next week’s another week [raising hand here] or paralysis sets in when they figure out they’re six months away from the poorhouse. How will you cope with an empty forty hours? Is it only fear holding you back, or something else?
Write out the worst-case scenarios of you quitting your job. I notice that when I capture generalized anxiety on paper, I can analyze it and make better decisions. Do you have some regular clients who could keep you floating as you build your business? Would it be possible to go part-time at your current job or consult?
And don’t forget to write down all the good things about quitting. I actually save quite a bit of money by working from home. My automobile costs are low, since my husband and I put very little mileage on our cars. (Neither of us has had a car payment since 1997.) We don’t spend a lot of money on lunches out. We don’t have to worry if our son’s sick – both of us are at home, so we can take care of him. If we need more money, I can get more queries out, he can get more clients – versus hoping we’ll get a raise during review time. The list of benefits far outweighs the drawbacks.
Another idea: Why not give yourself a deadline to quit your current job? Set a date that feels comfortable to you – 30 days from now, three months, or even a year. Commit yourself to building your freelance income, then give your notice when the day arrives. During this cushion time, get your home office in order, sock money away, pay off bills, and cut expenses.
You sound like a smart one, Kate, so I’m confident you’ll do fine. When you think about it, there are really only a handful of bad decisions that have the potential to screw up your life beyond repair. Like going over the Niagara in a barrel, or waving a snack baggie filled with crack at a police officer, stuff like that. Quitting a job … it doesn’t work out? So, you’ll learn something. You might have to go live with a friend – or worse, your mother. You’ll get another job. Better yet, when you’re 80, you won’t look back and think, “Why didn’t I go for it? What was I saving my life for?” [db]
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Apr 11, 2007 Book news
I actually took the opposite route to build up my freelance career. I’m a lucky one who has a husband whose income pays the “necessary” bills. We can have our house, pay for our food etc. We might not be able to take a vacation every year, but we do well. And my husband let me quit my job to freelance…
And I stared at an empty 40 hours a week. Because I wasn’t bringing in income I let chores, like housework, come before my writing. People felt like they could call me anytime of day for favors “because your not working now.” I ended up getting a job to feel productive and to give me the discipline to get up at 8 am because I have to work – not roll over and turn of the alarm clock because I didn’t have any plans for the day.
It was the best choice I ever made. But I made sure, when I took this position, that I kept my freelance career in mind. I got a technical writing job with a vendor/temp company. I know my position will eventually end – although it keeps getting extended. Because I’m only guaranteed 6 months at time, it gives me the incentive I need to keep plugging away at my freelance. I’m determined once this position ends, I won’t need to find another.
Another thing that helped, the client I am working for is ok with flex time. Many of the other employees do it. So I work 10 hour days and have Wednesdays off. Since I am used to getting up, I make sure to get up the same time on Wednesdays and use it for my writing. And two of those days I work from home, which is also helpful.
Consider looking for another job – and find one that is temporary. Whether it’s 6 months like mine (that has been almost a year now) or a year or longer, knowing that the job will eventually end can give you a deadline for getting your freelance going. And if you can find a place flexible about the schedule – you might even find more time to write.
You gave some really great advice here about knowing when, and when not, to quit. I would be terrified in the situation.
I was lucky in that when I finally became a “professional” writer (“professional” as in “paid,” even though I don’t necessarily equate payment with professional), I was going through a rocky time in life and had moved back in with my family. I didn’t really have any bills to take care of, so getting started (and focusing solely on my writing career) wasn’t really a problem.
I landed a few steady gigs, saved enough to get back on my feet, and here I am. I’ve been “OK” for over a year, but I dread the day work isn’t so steady anymore.
Anyway, I’m rambling. Great advice!
Dear Diana,
Thanks for your advice and your confidence! I’m with you: security is an illusion. My job could disappear without cause or warning. Likewise, if I were to disappear, they’d have another body at this desk faster than you can staple those TPS reports! (Sorry, by the way, about what happened to your first reply. Blogger bummer.)
I’m not afraid of sloth or paralysis because, although I’m a rotten procrastinator, I work my butt off. I always have, throughout my series of god-awful jobs. (Also, I’ve never owned a television, which helps.) I’ve been freelancing for a few years, always while working a steady job, but this is the first time I’ve been serious about making the leap to FT. I’m getting older, and the reality of my age — and direction of my undesirable career — is shaking me up. I’ve started to send out more queries (thanks, Renegades) and slack more on the TPS work that doesn’t matter worth a damn. But, with my writing, I’ll walk a million miles barefoot before I quit or get lazy. The editors I do have are appreciative and acknowledge my effort.
I took about nine mos. off from work, moved away from NYC to a small, sweet city, and wrote a book. I wrote a frikkin’ book! Since taking my current job, I’ve neglected the ms and done far less freelancing. So, yes, I know that if I weren’t working FT at something that sucks me dry, I’d be writing a whole lot more. I don’t doubt my work ethic! I do, however, doubt my ability to keep afloat on meager finances.
For me, the catch is money. It’s already rrreally tight, and my budget barely covers the essentials (which, believe me, are not lavish). I just bought a house this past fall (mortgage payments cheaper than NYC rent!) and am in the midst of a major remodel. I’m single and rely solely on my own income. I hate credit cards and don’t have any “bad” debt — nor do I ever want it. I have a plan, however: rent out a room to help pay the mortgage and, if necessary, I have a fall-back job that isn’t too horrible. So, I’ve got a safety net (which is as thick as a Kleenex, but it’s something).
I like your idea of writing it all down to suss out the details — and my fears. What’s holding me back? What’s the worst that could happen? It doesn’t feel so high-stakes, after all. And you’re right: If I don’t do it, I’ll be old and toothless, feeling like a loser, and kicking myself in my pathetic duff. If it gets really bad, I could always find another FT job. Chances are, I’m always going to feel miserable doing work that doesn’t engage me; work that isn’t writing/researching/FUN!
Quitting my job will feel a little like going over Niagara Falls in a barrel, but I’ve no doubt it will be just as exhilarating. I think I can survive the fall (and, I hope, proceed to kick ass in my writing career with just as much chutzpah as Jenn G. takes out the bad guys.) Thanks, again!
-Kate
Kate,
I’m normally a “lurker,” but your e-mail really touched me. Maybe my story will help you . . . 10 years ago, in a very demanding and stressful job (the commute was over two hours, the work hours were frequently 6 a.m. to after midnight,the pay was very low, etc. etc. ) I decided to “become a freelance writer.” I know now that it was just an excuse to leave that job and get some well-needed rest. But at the time, I jumped in–head first–doing everything you shouldn’t do. I had only emergency health insurance, no steady income, sporadic publications, a recent divorce, and two mortgages, which equalled the sum of my monthly paychecks. Talk about NOT being the right time to quit your day (in my case, day/night) job–at least it was a job, with basic benefits. And so there I was, the “freelance writer,” with business cards I never handed out, a stack of rejections, no viable plan, and a small bank account that was rapidly draining. And guess what? I failed. Big time. Within sixth months, I was back to waiting tables (my old college fallback). Within nine months I was fortunate to find a regular job. But here’s my point: I don’t regret that time. I produced a miserable manuscript (600+ pages after several drafts) that was rightfully rejected. But producing that manuscript–as bad as it was–gave me the confidence that I could at least stick to a writing project long enough to produce something (albeit something pretty miserable). To make a long story short, when a part-time job as a copyeditor turned into an opportunity to be a technical writer, I thought, “Well, I could churn out all those pages with no pay-off, so I can co-write a white paper with an engineer, with guaranteed publication.” Ten years later, I’m still a business/technical/proposal writer, with lots of publications, and a nice income that allows me to continue freelancing part time. NOW I have a solid, long-term plan to shift to freelance writing full-time, and I don’t have that frantic urge to recklessly jump in. What you have accomplished right now is FAR beyond where I was when I jumped into freelance writing. Consider: what’s the worst thing that could happen? Could you get back into the job market? Can you give yourself six months to try it? Given your track record (75% of your current icnome–HELLO!), I’d take the chance. I did–and I FAILED–and I still don’t regret my decision, as reckless as it was at the time. I needed the time off, I needed to “be a writer,” and I needed to prove to myself that I could stick to writing. If I were you, I’d give myself 6 to 12 months and go for it.
I think if you just have the TIME and ENERGY to devote to freelancing, you’ll succeed! If the glossies want you, you’re away! It’s obviously just fear that if you stop work, the opportunities will dry up, like when you break up with a boyfriend and suddenly no-one’s flirting with you anymore…
I’m in the position of not having many job options due to health problems and so have to go for the one thing I’ve always wanted to do. This just shows that actually, having a comfortable lifestyle can be as much of a barrier as being on the really rather poor end of the scale… interesting! xx
I am a ferocious believer in putting the cart before the horse. We can all analyze any decision to death, but once we’ve done the mental work of weighing options, looking at the pros and cons, crunching numbers, looking at strengths and weaknesses, all we have is the duality of decision making. What lies underneath, and what we often ignore because of our fear of making the wrong decision, is this:
Where is the resonance? Where is the heart?
In every decision there is not just a pro and a con. There are multiple possible perspectives. The one you choose is the one that gives you the most resonance, the most feeling, the most juice–despite the cons. Where are you most deeply alive, and connected to your passion and purpose?
The problem is that in our over analyzed, mentalized society, we dismiss our dreams and visions and feelings as bootless, unworthy attachments in the process of decision making. We have abandoned the heart of making a right-livelihood choice.
So I say go ahead, weigh everything, find a gazillion reasons to support staying or leaving. But being “reasonable” is a surefire recipe for making milk toast. Visionaries and dreamers never did anything remarkable by being reasonable.
Now that you’ve done all the mental work, put the cart before the horse. Jump. You’ll take forever to hit the ground, if you ever do, because multiple parachutes you never knew you had will open.
I know that sense of “want out” to follow your dreams. I’m a great believer in this maxim:
To be richer, you can either earn more, or spend less.
In any life, there is “stuff which is not necessary”. For everyone, that is different. There are 1001 ways to spend *less* money (check out “The Complete Tightwad Gazette” from the library as a good sourcebook). So, if you only make 75% of your salary as a freelancer…find a way to spend 25% less than you do now.
Then you can be a freelancer and you’ll probably be so happy that your productivity will explode and you’ll end up earning the extra 25% anyway.