Making the leap

The other day, I had lunch with a friend who just left the corporate world and took the plunge into the full-time freelance life. She did it for the best reason I can think of: “I was constantly setting aside what I’m passionate about.”

The ostensible reason for the meet-up was to compare notes and talk strategy, although I knew going in that I wouldn’t have a lot to offer. I have friends who are true full-time freelancers, and that’s a hard (but rewarding) way to go. They earn their money every day, every month. They’ve had to develop an entrepreneurial spirit and learn to live on the roller-coaster of inconsistent income. There’s some of that for me—namely, the inconsistent income—but much more of my nut is made on work I finished long ago. Hooray for book sales and passive income.

I figured the best I could offer her is “work hard and have faith.” Come to think of it, though, that’s pretty advice for just about anything.

In the end, we talked about so much more. The media glut and how to create content that stands out and has legs (that is, it can exist in multiple venues). The changing tides of creation and ownership of work. Knowing the difference between work that’s valuable to pursue and jobs that should be avoided.

In the course of the conversation, I realized something. When I made my break with newspaper journalism in August 2013 and made the transition to full-time authorship and freelancing, I spent the first year decompressing from a quarter-century of daily newspaper work. I didn’t really care if I wrote, slept in, played golf, or whatever; I needed the time away from a job, any job, just to unwind the spring in my soul that had been twisted tight by the high-pressure life of daily deadlines.

That was the first year.

Now, deep into the second year of my new life, I find that I have a new problem: I don’t have enough to do. (Believe me, I’m not complaining. I’m just saying that I seem to have the opposite challenge from most of the people I know, hardworking people who can’t possibly cram the demands of their lives into the twenty-four daily hours they’re given.) I can’t, won’t and don’t write every day. I don’t need to take on any more freelance work than I already do. And I’m not a good enough golfer to spend my extra hours on the course.

So … in the year to come, I’ll be making yet another adjustment, adding a part-time job to my life. It’s something completely new to me, something that engages my mind and will afford me a bit of travel. I’m not ready to talk about it yet, but I will be soon, I imagine. Like everything else in this life I’ve built for myself, it’s something I can do on my terms, as much or as little as I want. I had a boss at the San Jose Mercury News who talked often about the need to re-plant himself every few years by taking on a new role or learning a new skill. I suppose I’ve always done that intuitively, but these days, I think about it more and more. The key to a life of engagement is constant learning. Here I go …

Hold a good thought for me, and for my friend Anna Paige, who’s taking her own plunge. She’s following her passion, and she’s betting on herself.

I think she’ll do great.