The Struggle between Art and Time

I am not comfortable talking about money. Or how I struggle to make time to write while raising two kids and juggling a medium-distance relationship. Or the crusty sear of pain I feel when I receive another rejection on the latest project that was supposed to fix everything (got one this morning).

This might surprise you because I DO talk about this stuff, relentlessly. And I will keep talking about it because the only thing more uncomfortable than sharing it is keeping it to myself. (Plus, you’re a good listener, and you give me ideas I wouldn’t have on my own.)

So, to update, here is my current Life Choice:

1. I’ve essentially been offered $32,000 a year to write whatever I want, full-time. Anything my writing makes above and beyond that is mine to keep, though if it goes above $15,000, I lose that $32,000. This amount is enough for my two kids and me to get by, barely, or…
2. I return to teaching full-time and write on the side. The money is good and guaranteed with this route, and I love love love to teach, though the place I’d return to is toxic (teaching part-time, or teaching elsewhere, would drop my pay to such that it’d make more fiscal sense to take the $32,000 in choice #1, and taking a non-teaching job elsewhere would eat up summers off, making it more time-sensible to stay with full-time teaching).

You’ll agree that this is a lovely first-world problem to have, yes? I received valuable input on this choice yesterday, here and on Facebook, and I’m putting it all into a pot to simmer for a week (though I’ve 99% made up my mind to go for #2; it’s hard to beat genetic conditioning). So today’s post is less about the nuts and bolts of making a writing life and more about how to carve out time for creativity without sacrificing relationships and well-being, something I know a lot of you struggle with in different versions of my same situation. Wait, it’s even more existential than that. It’s about who we are. Are we workers who aim for a comfortable life, or does everyone have a passion and a purpose, and are they cowards if they don’t give that 100%? Is it enough to follow your dream, part-time and safely, or is that selling out, and will it guarantee you never reach your dream?

I can’t tell if I’m trying to unionize everybody or just going through the early stages of menopause. In any case, my question remains: is there ever a “best” or even a “better” time to risk everything, and if so, how do you recognize it?

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