Current draft (#5) of Gate Mouth: Still only 142 pages in, 108 [roughly] to go…I’m going through a fallow period and trying to motivate myself to return to the manuscript again.
Hi everyone. Just a few minutes ago, I sent the email I’ve been debating with myself on all week. On Monday, which was also the start of a new session for the community college I adjunct for, my coordinator sent an email requesting all adjunct teachers’ plans for the next school year, which starts in July. I’ve been thinking for the past few months that I want to quit, but quitting felt like a distant problem, not something I had to decide on right away. But suddenly, there it was, a demand to state my intentions. I said I would not be returning in July, that this new session will be my last.
Walking away from a decent part-time gig is hard, especially when I’m making about $800 a month on only 10 hours a week. That’s money I’m able to contribute to the joint savings account I share with my partner, and money I was able to use to pay for my recent trip to Paris. It’s a gig that fits into my current work schedule with Prairie Lights and doesn’t ask much of me beyond preparing for eight hours in the classroom a week (which sounds like a lot of prep but really isn’t; I mostly just use the free textbooks and other materials that the community college provides1). I’ve also enjoyed working with non-credit adult language learners again; it’s easy to enjoy being in the front of a classroom when the stakes are relatively low for all of us.
That said, I have to be honest and admit I haven’t been writing nearly as much since I started teaching again back in September. I suspected this would happen, but the degree to which I’m struggling to write has been staggering. I’m tired, and I feel distant from myself as a writer. I’m declaring an end to this teaching gig in June (when the current session ends) on the faith that I’ll find a little extra money some other way (if I absolutely need it) or just learn to budget better. I think I’m ready to be financially meager again so that my writing can grow.
I attended Iowa City’s Writing Marathon group yesterday afternoon for a couple of hours (after a monthlong hiatus), and just being in the company of other writers felt really good. I didn’t get much done other than a long handwritten journal entry, but even giving myself time to do that felt significant.
Resisting the constant threats of capitalism—that you won’t be enough for anyone if you don’t earn enough, that you’ll miss out on significant life experiences (i.e., a house, kids, vacations, etc.) if you can’t pay for them—is really hard and takes some guts. I realize I’m making this decision with a lot of privilege, and that I even have a choice to turn down extra money is itself a mark of privilege. I don’t have much, but I have family and loved ones who could support me if my financial situation ever got really, really dire. I’m not there yet, and I try to remind myself of that. Fear of not having enough money isn’t the same as actually not having enough money.
Now that I’m giving myself the summer to refocus and recommit to my writing, I’m feeling hopeful. There are potential opportunities to nourish myself as a writer, too; I should be hearing back from my applications with Porchlight (for the annual Iowa Writer’s Residency) and Bread Loaf within a month or so. I have to remind myself that I’m worthy of these opportunities, and even if I don’t get them, that’s okay.
I think that’s all I have for today, but I hope you’re also taking time for yourself to ask what’s important to you as a creative (and what isn’t). I’m going to head out to ICE CREAM at PS1 this afternoon to see my friend Laura and be inspired by other creatives making and sharing beautiful things.
Except that, as I mentioned last week, the college failed to provide textbooks to my students for this session, so now I’m scrambling to adapt and use alternate materials.