I’m Taking the Scary Leap to Writing Full Time Now: A Few Reasons Why

Summary

A writer is transitioning to writing full-time, driven by personal fulfillment and a sense of urgency sparked by a life-expectancy calculation.

Abstract

The author of the content has decided to pursue a career as a full-time writer, a dream they've harbored since childhood. Despite the challenges and low odds of success, the writer has been inspired by recent life events, including a break from a draining retail job and the realization of their own mortality as indicated by a life expectancy calculator. The decision is fueled by a desire for happiness and the fulfillment that writing brings, rather than adhering to societal norms of a conventional career path. The author acknowledges the risks involved but is determined to commit fully to this endeavor, preferring to live with the consequences of their actions rather than the regret of unfulfilled dreams.

Opinions

The author believes that societal expectations of a responsible career are less important than personal happiness and fulfillment.
The writer is aware of the slim chances of financial success in writing but values the intrinsic rewards of the craft.
The experience of working in retail has contributed to the author's physical and emotional exhaustion, further motivating the career switch.
The author places a high value on the legacy of their work and the relationships formed through writing.
The realization of limited time left in life has prompted the author to prioritize their passion for writing over the security of a traditional job.
The author would rather face potential failure in pursuing their dream than live with the regret of not trying.

If Not Now, When?

Every writer dreams of the day when writing can be their full-time job; it’s been my goal since I was about eleven years old. That was 44 years ago, and a verse from “The River” has been playing on loop in my head for a while now: “Is a dream a lie if it don’t come true, or is it something worse?” Leave it to Springsteen to force me to look hard at my state in life.

I know all the rational arguments against chasing the dream. The number of writers making a full-time living from writing alone is fewer than the number of guys playing in the NFL. People read even less now than they used to, preferring to binge-watch Netflix instead. You have to be both insanely talented and incredibly lucky for it ever work. It’s not a smart, responsible career path, and like the image above you don’t know what’s over the next hill.

I get it. I’ve just finally reached the point that I don’t care about what the world thinks is responsible (and I’ve never been that smart anyway). I might have puttered along dreaming/hoping/planning all the way to the grave if two seemingly unconnected events hadn’t pushed me to act.

First, I took a leave of absence from a soul-crushing retail job that I have held since the one-two punch of a layoff from a 20-year position and then the failure of the bookstore I opened immediately afterward. That was three months ago, and in that time I have written almost non-stop for the first time since I was in college.

I’ve been happier than I can remember. Hell, I had forgotten what happy even felt like.

Second, and forgive me if this one seems a little morbid, I came across a life-expectancy calculator from the CDC that informed me that given my current age I can expect to live roughly another 24.5 years. This assumes I won’t be hit by a bus tomorrow (I’m a notorious jaywalker), but even so the cold, hard numbers tell me that more than two-thirds of my sojourn across this big blue rock is in the rear-view mirror. No matter what Mick Jagger says, time is not on my side.

This has spurred both a look backward and a look forward. Four decades of “conventional” jobs paid the bills and took care of my kids, but my kids are grown and I’ve learned to live on a lot less than in my keeping up with the Jones’ days. From my recent retail years I have more gray hair, more aches and pains (it is a job for the young), and a surlier attitude toward people than ever. From writing I have four fairly unsuccessful books (commercially) that I’m proud of that will continue to live on even after I’m gone and relationships with other writers that would never have happened had I not taken that leave of absence. Not hard to figure out which of these is more valuable.

So can I make it writing full time? I honestly don’t know, and never will unless I actually try. Not sort of try; all-in, no-net, I’ve-slept-on-sidewalks-before try. Life isn’t a dress rehearsal, and I need to stop acting like it is.

I think legendary actor Michael Caine was right when he said he wanted to be able to look back on his life and regret the things he did, and not the things he didn’t do. This choice isn’t for everyone, obviously. I’ll end up either an inspiration or a cautionary tale. But at least my dying words won’t be “what if?”