An Uncomfortable Topic

Back in the early days of this blog, I said that I was going to look at four aspects of quitting my day job. Although the first one I listed was “Financial,” there’s actually been very little about money here. That’s mostly because I am far from an expert; I’m afraid that I do exactly what women are told over and over not to do—I’ve always left finances in my husband’s hands.

My mother doesn't like
this picture

(If you wonder how I could possibly trust him—well, that’s how we started out. We met when he helped me pack my parachute. If I could trust a stranger with that, money isn’t such a big deal.)

Anyway, I try to pay attention to investments and TIAA-CREF and all those things, but I can’t. Or I don’t choose to—I don’t really know which. I’m very, very grateful that Greg has been such a good custodian, because for me the financial world is scary and confusing.

There’s one problem, though. I’ve always had a paycheck, and we’ve always had separate bank accounts—yours, mine, and ours. That way, I didn’t get miffed if he buys a sailboat, and he doesn’t feel like I’m shorting our food budget if I blow money on something I don’t need. It’s worked out very well.

I’ve always contributed less than Greg did to the household account, and when I was being a full-time mom in the summers, I didn’t kick in, but I hope we can all agree that I was working at least as hard as Greg at those times, and I never felt like I wasn’t contributing equally.

What I earn now will go into my personal account and I won’t be adding anything to the household funds (unless YA taste suddenly shifts away from a dystopian future to the ancient world, and from vampires to centaurs). This is a strange and uncomfortable feeling.

A friend to whom I confessed this said, “I’m sure Greg will have no problem supporting you.” And I’m sure he won’t. But I will.

It’s just one of those new things I’ll have to get used to, I guess. I have a feeling this will be the hardest transition of all.

Independence Day

I had lunch last week with two university friends. One is teaching summer school; the other had just finished making syllabi for her fall classes. What had I been up to? they asked. Well, there was my trip to Italy to talk about, but other than that—futzing with my manuscript. That was it.

Which is great, and which is why I quit teaching: so I could spend time writing. But it brought home a major dilemma of the creative life: you don’t know when you’ve finished. Of course, this is true about almost any job, including the ones my friends were talking about, but in those cases, there's a bit more clarity. True, there’s no perfect syllabus, but at a certain point, it’s good enough and you post it on-line. A class could always be better, but at a certain point, the bell rings and the little darlings troop out, and you’re done. You've accomplished something.

When have you accomplished the task of editing a manuscript? You never have, really. Jane Yolen, whose Owl Moon has been called the perfect picture book, says that every time she reads it, she wants to tweak something. A few weeks ago at a workshop I read aloud an excerpt of my first novel, Anna of Byzantium, to illustrate a point, and I wanted to pull out my red pen and edit.

So with no finish line to cross, you keep working. I can edit, rewrite, revise endlessly, all day, every day. And this is no good. This is not why I quit teaching—so I would be chained to my computer.

And then last Sunday I got a double whammy from The New York Times. One article told me that all this busyness that everyone complains about is, to a large extent, self-imposed, and in many cases is “a hedge against emptiness.” Well, in my case, it is self-imposed (I don't have a boss anymore!) and I do have a pretty big void to fill—my self-definition as a college professor, 28 years' worth of relationships with colleagues and students, and everything else I've been blogging about for over a year.

A second article pointed out that getting away from pressure releases creativity. So if I lighten up the pressure by putting my work aside, I might get more creative, huh? Worth considering.

My resolution: to take a sabbath. Not a religiously-imposed one—that’s not the way I roll—but a mental-health one, an Independence Day. One day a week I’m not going to work: no writing, no editing (well, okay, mentally—but not at the computer), no conference prep, no work-related emails. Once a week, I’ll take off a full day.

Yesterday was the first attempt. I hadn't planned ahead, so I did need to do one work-related thing (mail books to an event I'm speaking at), but that was it. I slept late (7:00!), and didn't get dressed until 10:00. Lingered over the Science Times; the fact that it's the Tuesday insert of The New York Times is one reason I chose Tuesday to be Independence Day (the other is that we traditionally go out to dinner on Tuesday, so there's no cooking, or, worse, figuring out what to cook). We went to the Frist—quilts for me, sailboats for Greg, and the unexpectedly wonderful Bill Traylor for both. I finished a book (Sailing to Freedom by Martha Stiles; it's terrific) in one gulp instead of snatching a page here and a page there.

Out to a dinner that I didn't cook, then knitting and Netflix.

It was a bit difficult; I kept wanting to check email, fiddle with the manuscript, work on my presentations for the conference next week. But I resisted and will do it again. Will it help? Time will tell.

The Endless Summer

So far, I haven’t noticed that my day job has come to an end. There’s been no change in my routine. After all, I’ve always had summer break (except for the two years that I was out of academe, causing me both times to run back to the Ivory Tower screaming, “Take me back! Take me back!”), and so far nothing is different. It’s been a normal summer break.

With the other new emeriti

Sleepy and stubbly, but happy!

Or has it?

After Vanderbilt’s commencement, we went to our son’s commencement (way to go, Patrick!) and a mere few days afterward, off to Italy for a brief but very lovely trip (lots of photos). We came home and I had barely started making a dent in my jet lag when I went to speak at a conference, came home, and am now preparing for two more conferences.

This is the busiest June I’ve ever had. I don’t think I would have committed to all this busy-ness if I’d also had to plan classes, make syllabi, check on book orders, etc. But this, after all, is why I decided it was time to say “Goodbye, day job!” I’ve rarely had trouble finding time to write; it’s the time for promotion—including speaking at conferences—and for travel that has been hard to find. Or at least it was until this summer.

So maybe I have noticed.

Before and After

BEFORE

 

 

 

AFTER

Goodbye, day job!

The countdown clock at the top of this blog says "0." But this is an arbitrary number. Back when I decided to chronicle my last year at a day job, I had to decide on a final day, but what was that final day?

The last day of class? No, there would still be work to do after that: the grading of papers, the assigning of grades, the dealing with students (only one this semester, thank goodness!) who would contest said grades (I won).

The day grades had to be turned in? I didn't yet know what that date would be.

The day of my last paycheck? No, because by then I would have been exploring day-job freeness for a few months.

So I decided on Commencement day. The seniors and I are ending one stage and entering another on the same day.

And it's beautiful outside, such as rarely happens on Commencement Day in Middle Tennessee. It's currently 49 degrees, supposed to reach a high of 79, a light breeze, and clear. A perfect day for new beginnings.

Congratulations, class of 2012! I hope you're looking forward to what's next as eagerly as I am!

Thank You, Universe

I’ve been racking my brain for a fitting wrap-up post to my year of pondering about and planning for my farewell to my day job, with little success.

Sometimes the universe steps in. And it did on Monday.

That morning I stopped by the university to pick up my rented cap and gown. Aha! I thought. Preparing for my last Commencement would be a good subject for the last post of this stage of the blog. Not too exciting, though.

In my mailbox I found mail: a photocopy of the cover of the new edition of a highly-regarded textbook, Literature for Today’s Young Adults, and copies of pages where two books of mine were mentioned (Anna of Byzantium was one of nine books on the editors’ Honor List for 1999; King of Ithaka was called “a perfect introduction to the tale of Odysseus"). This could be the subject, it occurred to me: receiving, in my academic mailbox, a validation of my non-academic writing. What a neat circle!

But the universe had something even better in store.

Sweaty and jet-lagged!

The logo on the envelope's return address caught my eye. It turns out that the mailing had come from Don and Alleen Nilsen. They co-founded the International Society for Humor Studies, whose journal, Humor, published one of my early (and, I confess, one of my few) scholarly articles. I later joined a class action suit brought by the Authors Guild against someone who sold downloads of copyrighted material without permission. That article published in Humor turned out to have been illegally downloaded three times (I'm still astonished that three different people wanted to read an article entitled "Cecco Angiolieri: A Medieval Italian Humorist?"). The AG won the suit and the settlement check for $1,500 arrived just as my twelve-year-old son and I were leaving for a trip to Rome—perfect timing!

Also perfect was the timing of the arrival of this kind mailing from the Nilsens (they didn’t have to send it—most editors don’t). Its arrival as I was toting my cap and gown would be hard to improve upon, and so this is the subject of the last post of stage one.

The incident makes so many full circles: the letter in my academic mailbox concerns my non-academic writing; I went into teaching Italian as a profession because of my love for Rome, and the illegal downloads of the article led to an enhanced experience of that city; I stayed non-tenure-track so I could write and so I could spend more time with my family, like taking Patrick to Rome; I published scholarly articles only if I enjoyed the topic and felt I had something new to say (a luxury of not going for tenure) and that article was truly a pleasure to write.

Thank you, universe.

Be Careful What You Wish For Dept.

I could probably have continued to manage both a day job and writing for quite a while. It’s the promotion and marketing that take up so much time and conflict with teaching (my hefty volunteer position at SCBWI is part of it too).

Luckily, when you write books for young readers, the promotion is fun. Exhausting, but fun. I’m hoping it will be less exhausting when I don’t have to cram so much into the short time between the end of my academic year and the end of most school systems’ terms. Here’s a roundup of a ten-day period that just ended:

Eleven authors in Missouri

April 19: left Nashville for Missouri

April 20: Children’s Festival of Books in Kirksville, MO. Four presentations (1400 kids attended—I didn’t see all of them!) and a dinner with attendees

April 21: returned to Nashville

April 23: last day of classes

April 24: left for Hoover, AL

April 25: visited two schools in Hoover; five presentations

April 26: left Hoover for Palm Beach County, FL

April 27: visited two schools, four presentations

They had 24 authors!

April 28: “April is for Authors” book festival, attended by parents, teachers, librarians, and some kids. A solo presentation, a duo, and a panel

April 29: brunch and a tour of Palm Beach with my former student RaeAnn. I love that we’ve kept in touch! Left for Chicago

April 30: participated in a panel I organized at the International Reading Association, then a signing with Rebecca Barnhouse and Ruta Sepetys, at the wonderful Anderson’s Bookshop in Naperville

May 1: returned to Nashville to a stack of papers and projects to grade

So I had vastly different audiences of vastly different interests and sizes. Which was the best? I don’t know. They were all wonderful. It’s always great to spend time with writers (BEST people in the world!). My to-read list has expanded just from hearing them talk about their books.

I love meeting my readers (my favorite question of this go-round: “Do you know any famous authors?” I started naming some and she shyly asked, “Do you know Charles Dickens?”); I love talking to aspiring writers; I love reaching the parents, teachers, and librarians who will help kids find the books that will change their lives.

I’m exhausted (and I still have those papers to grade), but I can’t wait to have the time to get out on the road and do more!