The Transition Approaches

It’s 7:01 on Saturday morning. Am I snoozing happily? No. Am I looking forward to a restful weekend of fun and friends? No. Did I cry before going to bed, have an intense dream that involved my grandmother, her friends and a pair of failing pants at a complicated event, and then get out of bed overwhelmed by the day of planning ahead? Yes! Yes, I did. Welcome to my life in transition. In eleven days, I leave my job for a life of freedom and writing.

It’s ironic that I’m leaving now. After a couple of years of frustration and stasis while the company tried to straighten itself out, last month I got a new, reasonable boss and have started working from home once a week. The position paid well and I had a lot of freedom, but it was time to go. I had exhausted my potential for growth, as HR would say. So I’m leaving.

Leaving for what? Writing. The excitement about this is not always present to me, certainly not right now, in the inevitable gloom of a San Francisco morning. I’m calling it a sabbatical, even thought I won’t be returning to that job. I’ll be returning to some job, so sabbatical it is. Six to nine months off. Which, put like that, sounds like a court sentencing guideline. I plan to work on a book (write some, edit some, resurrect some). Apply to graduate school. Write the screenplay of a short film. Maybe.

Of these three major goals, only the graduate school applications sound reasonable today. I know how to apply to grad school, having done it before. The book? Terrifying. I have conviction on my side and generally believe that arrogance + tenacity = book deal. It’s an added plus that I’ve been in marketing for ages so I can presumably market the hell out of myself and this book if I can keep the arrogance thing afloat on my bad days.

Here are my two primary concerns today.

1. You know that quote that goes something like, “My grandfather was a soldier, so my father could be a doctor, so I could be a writer/artist/actor?” I’ve always thought I was the last in that line. My grandfather was a soldier, my father is a businessman, so I’m up, even if I don’t have all the money and connections I’d like. I’m a lot more rich and connected than most people. My point is, what if I’m the soldier and not the writer? Conclusion? Worry about it, fine, but realize that it’s on me to fight for what I want for myself, soldier or writer or whatever. I can be the exception to the rule. They’re out there. Ingenuity, tenacity and marketing. I’m going to translate that to Latin and get myself a nice shield.

2. Overreaching. I am seriously driven (read = want everything), a great project manager (read = organize everything) and impatient (read = want everything and organized and NOW). The list of things I plan to do during this time off is ridiculous. Totally unachievable. Seriously. It ranges from taking my vitamins every day to practicing the piano we just bought to taking no less than five acrobatics and trapeze classes every week. Plus, I’m apparently going to cook every night, take trips to Costa Rica, Iceland and Thailand (which will have to be FREE since I will have no money), and take about a half a dozen classes. In addition to moving to New York for a month. Seems reasonable, right? In SIX MONTHS. Right. Yes. What’s that acronym for goal planning? SMART goals = Something Moderate Achievable Ridiculous and Taxing? Hang on. I’ll look it up. OK, here it is: Specific, Measurable, Attainable, Realistic and Tangible. Yes. I am also going to floss every day and learn to rope cattle. And take a tap dancing and self-defense class. Maybe I could cut back by combining those two…

So here I am. Saturday morning. A day of planning and plotting ahead. Wish me luck. Courage. The endeavor is worth everything. What else is there really?