On A Year And A Bit of Saying Sure, Why Not?

When we first moved back to Australia eighteen or so months ago I was feeling a bit lost. It was partly the standard dislocation and general weirdness that is a normal part of the repatriation process. But is was also partly something more.

Living in Seoul I legally wasn't allowed to work. So I dabbled in things here and there. I explored on foot and took lots of photos and wrote lots of words. I read and embroidered and did loads of paper craft. I always had projects on the go; I was never bored. And there was never any pressure to get a job, to go to work. My spouse visa wouldn't let me, but more than that people just accepted that as an expat wife my role was focussed on supporting the family and that was as it should be. But then we moved back home and suddenly everyone was always asking - sometimes tentatively, sometimes expectantly - Are you going back to work? 

Let's rewind a little. Before we moved overseas, I worked. Since my first 'proper' job in a bookstore at 16-ish I've worked. I've always wanted independence, I've always wanted to be self sufficient, I've always wanted to do well. Then we moved overseas and I stopped working and at first it was a bit scary, but after a year or so I adjusted and it was ace. It was fun to devote my time to my husband and step-sons, and to the house and the dogs. It was fun to have spare time for crafting and reading and blogging. And I appreciated it for the luxury it was.

But then we moved back home and it felt different. It felt like I should do something more with my time, with my life - and not just because people were telling me I should. I felt it too. I just didn't know what that something was. I knew what I didn't want to do - return to full time corporate work - but I didn't have a clear idea of what I did want to do. I was a bit confused about it all.

Within a few months of landing back in Australia, while all this was just starting to swirl about in my head, I found myself at ProBlogger. It was wonderful and fun and I met so many ace people. It was exciting and motivating, and completely utterly terrifying. I kept having these ridiculous circular conversations with myself that followed one of two themes:

Theme one: There's some things I think I'm pretty good at and I should totally dive in and just do those things, but - what if in reality I completely and utterly suck at those things? Let's face it, I have no f**king idea what I'm doing... 

Theme two: There's some things I think I'm pretty good at, but I'm in the ridiculously lucky position of not needing to make money so why should I feel the need to enter the marketplace, with all the pressure and stress and potential corruption of ideals that it may entail? Why can't I just enjoy life and employ my skills in non money making ways? Isn't ambition just thinly veiled vanity? A desperate need for outside approval? 

As you can imagine, neither were productive lines of thought.

And then Voices of 2014 happened. Some lovely person (I know who you are and I'm so very grateful!) nominated my little blog, and somehow I made it through to the top forty in the personal category. And because of that a few emails came my way - invitations to PR events and sponsor challenges. And I still had no idea what I wanted to do, and those circular arguments were still swirling about in my head, but I just started saying yes. I figured I'd see where things went, see what felt right. I figured I'd cross the river by feeling the stones beneath my feet (thanks for that one, Deng Xiaoping).

So I said yes to some fantastic freebies and to some things I put cold hard cash behind. I said yes to blogger brunches and photography workshops. I finally said yes to a Photoshop class, and a pretty intensive weekend learning all about freelance writing (both worth every penny). I said yes to Facebook groups and Instagram and real life meet-ups.

I thought that maybe saying yes would help me figure out what I wanted to do. And it has. After a year and a bit of saying sure, why not? I'm definitely more certain about a few things.

Firstly, I'm clearer about why I want to make some money. I know that in the grand scheme of things I'll never contribute to the family finances in a meaningful way (I contribute much more in other ways). But I want to have enough cash to pay for a camera lens, or a magazine subscription, or to buy that dress that I really don't need, or to cover the cost of upgrading my flight to Europe (that's what I'm working towards right now!). It might all sound frivolous and silly, but it gives me a strange peace of mind. It means something, to me.

Secondly I'm much clearer about how I want to make money. And it's not through my blog, at least not directly anyway. It's through freelance writing, and photography, and collaboration, and through saying yes to very select opportunities that do come my way thanks to Good Things*.

And I've realised just how much doing things leads to doing other things. I've realised how little actions that may not feel like much at the time can lead to opportunities down the track. Sometimes way down the track.

And all of this has lead to where I'm currently at. I'm writing six posts a month on this blog which was my intention at the start of the year (yay me!); I've been nominated for Voices of 2015 (thank you, whoever you are!); I'm writing for the Threadless blog (I'm working on a post or three for them this weekend, actually); I've hit 24 sales in my Etsy store; and I've just submitted a 4000-ish word article - with photos - for one of my favourite magazines (my first properly paid commission, and the editor loves it! Yippee!). I've also recently submitted a paid-in-kind interview with one of my favourite illustrators for a fabulous little magazine; plus I'm in the midst of organising a trial run as a contributing photographer (yes, a paid position!) for a website I've long enjoyed (really hope I can pull that one off...). Oh, and I'm a finalist in the mobile category at the Head On Photo Festival.

I know that not all of these things will work out (and yes part of me is scared to publish this post in case it all goes to s**t). I know that next month may not be quite as awesome and opportunity filled as this one. I know that I'll have to work hard and stay focussed and keep thinking and planning and pitching if I want to continue writing. But right now it feels like there are some pretty ace things afoot, some pretty ace things indeed!

I still don't really know what the f**k I'm doing (does anyone?), but I reckon I'll keep saying yes for a little while longer.

Typography Tuesday : Ann Patchett on Writing

Ann Patchett's This Is The Story Of A Happy Marriage was recommended by someone, somewhere. A favourite author, on the radio, maybe. I'm not that far in to it, but I've already underlined half the book. Ann writes about the art and craft of writing with such clear eyes, it's both reassuring and slightly frightening.

It's been a timely read; I've been thinking a lot about writing lately. Last year was kind of the year of the image for me, and it feels like 2015 might just be the year of the word. 

Art stands on the shoulders of craft. I like this sentiment a lot. It's something I believe to be true for many things, possibly for everything. Sometimes it feels like we live in a world where we are encouraged to jump straight in - to go for the creativity bit without first learning the skill bit (I know I do this all of the time). 

We see others creating fabulous things and we want to have a go and, sometimes, we want instant results. But we forget the long years of hard work, of sleepless nights and study, that led to that fabulous thing. 

Ann writes "If you want to write, practice writing. Practice it for hours a day, not to come up with a story to publish, but because you long to learn how to write well, because there is something that you alone can say. Write the story, learn from it, put it away, write another story." See that? Write the story and put it away. Don't pitch it, don't publish it, don't sell it. Put it away. 

In the happy social media glow of likes and comments and follows I often feel the need to share and publish and sell. And if I don't share and publish and sell I sometimes feel like I've wasted my time creating whatever it is I've created. So this is a much needed reminder that time spent building skills and knowledge is never wasted. Before art comes the craft.

The font is Harman Script. It's from a family of mix and match fonts designed by Ahmet Altun. It's pretty expensive (I bought it on special a little while ago) but each font in the family is loveable and versatile, beautifully crafted. 

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Is this something you struggle with too? Do you allow yourself time to simply practice your craft, whatever that may be? Do you feel pressure to share and sell, or do you just enjoy the creative process?

My First…Rebellion

I'm playing along with the hilariously talented Kerri Sackville today. She's started a new blogging challenge about firsts, and today's theme is 'My First Rebellion'. She's written about her's here. But read mine first so you don't make unfair comparisons. Okay, good, thanks…

Well technically this isn't quite my first act of rebellion. Although I was a pretty well behaved kid there had been little things before this. The odd bit of port pinched from the parents stash. Sneaking out at night for a moonlit walk*. That final week of year twelve when we staged daily events to protest the banning of 'muck-up day'.

But that all just seemed like harmless fun, and it was done as a group. It's easy to rebel when you're part of a pack; when you feel that truth, beauty and your god given right to throw eggs on the final day of high school is on your side. 

No, my first real rebellion was a solitary act. In a strange way it was kind of the first tangible sign that I had my own thoughts about the world and the way it worked. That I'd considered all the very worthy, very important stuff my parents taught me growing up and had reached a slightly** different conclusion. 

My first real rebellion was getting a job at McDonald's. 

When I was little, my Mum and Step-Dad were what you might call hippies. Middle class sure, but a very-left-leaning, grow-your-own, build-your-own, change-the-world kind of middle class.

We're talking an early childhood of communes, marijuana plants in the backyard, and friends who built mud huts in Warrandyte way before the word 'sustainable' was part of everyday PR speak. On weekends we made banners and marched for peace or workers rights or both. On school holidays we drove to Nimbin and fought off leeches and hungry baby goats (aggressive little critters). Or we got dragged to festivals in the middle of the Victorian bush, where there were teepees and nudity and mud. And drumming circles. (I still have nightmares). 

You can probably gather from all this that McDonald's was a very dirty word in our household. It was a sign of all that was wrong with the world - greedy capitalism, factory farming, American cultural imperialism, wastefulness, and just plain bad food. We did not eat there, ever.

(Side note - on the other hand, my Dad took us to Red Rooster every other Friday night and I ate pineapple fritters and drank coke! Coke! It was so great!) 

So I was 18 and studying at Swinburne Uni, and I wanted some extra cash, and I heard that McDonald's Hawthorn was hiring. How convenient, I thought. So I applied and I got the job.*** Cue general ridicule and mirth from the family. They laughed at the uniform, the terminology, the 'training'. 

But I was earning a decent hourly rate and kind of having fun. And I turned out to be pretty awesome at the whole fast food thing. I got little promotions and I won some awards. One year, I won 'Drive Thru Crew Member of the Year'. Go me. And I remember xmas day, my Mum and her best friend rolling about laughing, literally in tears of laughter about this award. And it pissed me off. Because by that stage I'd realised that my silly casual job at Maccas was turning out to be something more. 

As a shy introvert, working at McDonald's gave me confidence. That job taught me how to make small talk, how to deal with all kinds of people and situations I'd never encountered before. It showed me I could be witty, funny even (who would have thought!); and that working in a team didn't always suck. 

As I continued with my studies I continued to work for them, and slowly, slowly I showed my folks that McDonald's maybe wasn't as evil as they thought. As a manager I helped give training and a career to kids who may have slipped through the cracks otherwise. Later, McDonald's gave me my first 'real' job in the area I'd studied to work in. And it's been thanks to McDonald's that we've enjoyed the past six amazing years of overseas adventures.

And, best of all, it's this first act of rebellion many many years ago that eventually led me to my husband, my best friend, my partner in crime. Kind of awesome, the twists and turns of life. 

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*Seriously. I was such a nerd / good girl that my friend and I used to sneak out at night just to go for a stroll in the moonlight. We'd sit in the park and eat Aero bars, dipping them in yogurt. Party on. 

**Note the slightly. I am still left-leaning. I still believe in equality, fairness and human rights. I believe in public services and the power of education. But I also believe in personal choice and the free market, and that some times for some problems government regulation isn't actually the best solution.

*** Yes, I was hired, by McDonald's, at the age of eighteen.