Unexpected Freedoms

Have you ever shared a moment where somebody said something that was absolutely freeing? 

Okay, maybe not quite THAT freeing. 

My most recent such moment was riding down the elevator with a coworker. She looked at me, absolutely glowing, and whispered, "We're leaving this place!" And we both happy sighed, because it had been a long day week month quarter.

My biggest moment of freedom happened in a bar in Dallas three years ago. It should go without saying that I was fully clothed and mostly sober. I am not a big drinker. When Mother and I moved in together four years ago, we each put a mostly full bottle of liquor in the fridge. Lord knows how either of us came to buy our individual bottles, but they have remained untouched for four years. Our official position is that they exist to help maintain proper freezer temperatures in case of a power outage. 

The look I got the last time my kids saw me drink a glass of wine. You'd've thought they'd caught me on a three-day crack bender while on the run from a liquor store robbery with a stolen zebra.

(Photo: Eleanor, 2003)

Betty, enjoying her book last year.

Totally worth it.

Anyway, I was at a bar in Dallas, explaining to a couple of people why I was planning to self-publish my novel instead of spending the next 10 years shopping for agents and book deals. The gist of my argument:

1. The novel was written for Betty, and I wanted her to see her book in print while she was still young enough to enjoy it.
2. I have neither the time nor the interest in sending out a bazillion query letters and becoming a professional marketer for myself. 
3. I have exceptional writing (grammar, spelling, proofreading) and editorial skills, and I enjoy editing, so I am confident in the quality of my work.

Self-publishing has its downsides, for sure. If you don't invest in outside editing and copyediting, the quality can be amateurish. If you want extras like illustrations and cool cover design, you pay for it. 

Anyway, I gave my reasons, and was feeling a little defensive of my choice, questioning whether everyone I met would question it, too. Then, one of my companions then said the most wonderful, liberating thing: "So, really, it's like a hobby. I spend the same amount of time and money on my guitars. You spend it on making books. That's cool."

That one statement allowed me to completely reframe my writing life. Since then, I've really embraced my hobbyist status. I can pay for help--or DIY it. If I want to pay my daughter to illustrate my poetry book, I can. If I want to write humorous bios or odd disclaimers or put in 256 footnotes or hide dinosaurs on prime numbered pages, I can. Just like if I want to knit a purple and orange hat, it's my yarn and my loom. I have creative control. 

The liberating part of that is that, while I'm excited and grateful for every reader, the purpose of a hobby is not to make money. The money a hobbyist gets is frankly a bonus. You do the hobby because it brings you joy. 

My dad used to have this plaque on his boat. He was a true sailing hobbyist.

It's not a lazy approach, by any means. Any hobbyist can spend hours (and lots of money) absorbed in perfecting their passion. But that time and money fills you up, not drains you. I have paid both of my illustrators more money than I will probably ever make in royalties on either book. And that's fine with me. I love the illustrations and what they add to the words on the page, and I love having the creative freedom to put illustrations in my books...a choice I almost certainly wouldn't have with a traditional publisher. 

Sticking to the hobbyist role also enables me to firmly, joyfully refuse to participate in intrusive marketing. I do not tweet, although that is somewhat debatable since I took up playing the recorder. I announce my books on Facebook and Instagram...once. And then I am done, unless there's something about them or the writing of them that I want to explore here. 

The downside of being a hobbyist is (a) turning my back on the .0000000001% chance I could be the next Pulitzer-winning indie publishing success story, and (b) seeing the Kindle Direct Publishing metrics. My bar graphs look less like a soaring kite than the EKG of Dr. Frankenstein trying to shoot electricity into a bunch of dead body parts. 

YES! Dear God! It's ALIIIII....nope...WAIT!...nope....was that a tremor?...still nope.

Dammit, back to the graveyard.

On the whole, though, I enjoy being a writing hobbyist, perfecting my craft exactly the way I want. A sense of freedom came from that moment of conversation where I let go of second guessing and accepted my decision as being right for me...a sense of freedom that lasted a LOT longer than the freedom of getting off the elevator at work.

Also longer than the freedom of a fun-filled escape with these weirdos.