All my life I been a worker (Okay, not all my life, just the part of my life that I’ve had a job. But I just wanted to start this post off kinda like Sophia from The Color Purple: “All my life I had to fight.” Anyways, back to your regularly scheduled programming). Whether I worked an unskilled labor minimum-wage job, or one that required me to have a degree, I’ve never been the boss….Well, I’ve never had the title of a boss – you know like a lead, supervisor, manager: none of that. But there is a power and influence one can exert without a title, and of that, I’ve had plenty – another topic for another time though, another topic for another time.
Since I’ve spent so many years as a worker who’s been told what to do, that’s pretty much what my mind has associated with work: being told what to do and other people keeping tight reigns on me. I’ve grown accustomed to clocking-in and clocking out. Or rushing in the morning after waking up late, in many cases lying in bed awake (spending precious minutes) coaxing myself to get up and get ready for a job I hate. For the times (most of the time) I managed to get out of the bed, oh what wonders were done with a splash of water to my face. Still with all the time gone by and only minutes to my shift started, it was time to race.
Commence the mad dash to get ready, get out of the house, on the road, catch them green lights, dodge those slow pokes, and with adrenaline pumping arrive at the clock-in station at work, futilely feeling accomplished because I got there one-minute before I could be marked late. Of course it’s a short-lived joy because it only leads to however many hours I’m about to do at a job that I hate.
Then there’s also that highly regimented life, once you’re on company time, that I’m used to. The one where you’re told how to dress, where to sit, no snacking at your desk, no use of your phone, no reading books or surfing the web even when there’s down time, and given a 30 minute or if you’re lucky hour lunch break, at a time of your bosses choosing.
But now, all of that’s over. I’m living in the bittersweet aftermath of being laid-off. And I’ve decided instead of throwing my everything into working for someone else, my energy would be better used redirected towards pursuing my dreams and working for myself.
I’m starting anew – on my own.
Now I have the freedom to make my own schedule. The only thing is, I have to make my own schedule. As much as I hated the ever-looming threat of being written up if I were so much as a minute late, I must admit, it helped me to be on time. Now when I tell myself I’m going to go to bed early or complete something by 10am, and I don’t, I just don’t. Nobody’s calling me into the office. But funny how there’s still consequences.
It’s no secret that adopting self-discipline and motivation can be hard. That’s been an ever-present struggle in my life that currently comes as no surprise. But the challenge that sort of creeped up on me, is the challenge of reconceptualizing what work could be, especially when it comes to writing and me(I was going to put especially vis-à-vis writing…I guess I kinda just did also).
I’ve never been paid for writing. I’ve always written for free. Even when I did it professionally, like when I wrote TV show recaps for iVillage.com, they didn’t pay me. Their lawyer even drew up a contract for me to sign saying as much. At first, I didn’t really mind. I was happy for the opportunity. You know, as they say, I was building my portfolio. While that may have been true, I still call bullshit on that being a good reason to work for free.
Never write for free people, never write for free.
While I got paid for the work I did while in the office between 9 and 5, those recaps were largely done at home on my own time. I watched the shows I recapped, off the clock, from the TV that I purchased, and typed it up on my computer at home that I paid for. After a while, I got smarter, and started writing my recaps on company time, on the company’s computer, when I got to work the next day, to try and make myself feel like I wasn’t totally working for free. It did little in the way of making me feel better, eventually I didn’t even enjoy it anymore. My heart still knew I was being played.
So now, that I don’t have a job, and I’m pursuing this writing thing full-time, it’s hard to wrap my mind around the idea that I’m actually working when I’m writing. Often times when I’m brainstorming or planning – whether it be for this site or other writing projects I want to take on – it doesn’t feel like work. For so many years my mind has associated doing something that I enjoy with leisure time, nonworking activities. So the fact that the thing that I’m doing for work is actually mentally stimulating, exciting, and engaging is totally throwing my mind for a loop. I’m having to retrain my brain regarding what work is supposed to feel like.
While I realize work is usually associated with a paycheck, which I’m not getting yet, the way I see it, you also don’t get paid to apply for jobs where you’ll work for someone else either (which, by the way I’m still doing – it’s just not my main squeeze). Yet there’s a lot of work that goes in to tailoring your cover letter to each individual employer, researching companies, tweaking your resume. And sometimes, some of these jobs give you a test, that you’re also not paid for taking. I know people who’ve spent money on plane tickets to fly to a job interview in another state and weren’t reimbursed by the company. So if I’m going to be working for free, I might as well be working for me.
Now I just have to convince myself that if I’m having fun I’m still working. I have to train myself to accept that when I’m writing I’m working. When I’m writing I’m working, I’m working, I’m working, I’m work, work, work, work, working.
Don’t bother, I already know that was hella corny.
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