The Finally-Peaceful End of an Era

The office was quiet today because most of the company went to a baseball game, so I had time to think about what's going on with my freelance writing career. It wasn't until I said it out loud to my mom a couple of weeks ago that I realized that I'm really ready to let it go. There was no panic this time. No thoughts that I'd be letting my talent go to waste if I quit now. No despair or self-pity. Just a quiet sense of being proud of myself and giving it my best shot, and a definite feeling that I really don't want to pursue it anymore.

It was a dream. I clung to it. I gave it a really good go. I gave it the whole first half of my life. I made a lot of sacrifices. I did not pursue certain career opportunties because I just wanted a day job that would help me pay bills so I could focus on my writing. I let a lot of opportunties pass me by, and I became a misfit in this world in which most women by my age have the husband, the kids, and the minivan.

But I don't regret a single thing about it. For everything I gave up, I got something cool.

I interviewed Debbie (now Deborah) Gibson, Lisa Loeb (twice), and comedian Bill Burr (who used to live in my hometown).

I actually had dinner with Larry Burnett, the guitarist for 70s band Firefall. I remember loving the song "Just Remember I Love You" when I was a kid. If someone had told me that when I grew up, I would have dinner with the guy who played guitar on that song, I think my mind would have been so blown, I would have had to put my Lite Brite away and just sit in my room for a while.

I got to go to an amazing music festival in South Park, Colorado. I was asked to be a judge in two band competitions, which I secretly found hilarious considering I struggled through eight years of piano lessons and took guitar lessons from a nun who finally gave up and told me God didn't plan for me to be a musician. Those who can't play instruments judge battles of the bands. That's just beyond perfect.

I interviewed Jimmy Stafford, the guitarist for Train. I was quite nervous because I knew full well who Train was and loved the song "Calling All Angels." Jimmy was sharp and very business-oriented. I learned a lot out the business side of show biz in that interview.

I interviewed Soul Coughing frontman Mike Doughty. I had no idea who Mike was until I started researching him for the interview. He's a quiet genius. I got a lot of feedback on that article.

I was published in Performing Songwriter magazine. That was a huge deal.

In one of my more memorable interviews, I talked with a NYC rock goddess who had just taken a break from music, flown to Hawaii, taken a massage class, and then ran off with her instructor. When we did the interview, she was calling from her cell phone from the car in which she and her instructor were fleeing the school. She was totally nuts. Best. Interview. Ever.

My humor columns have been published all over the internet. I made maybe fifty bucks for my humor columns in the twenty-plus years I've been writing them. I Google my name sometimes and find my columns reprinted on sites I never gave permission for. As long as my byline is there, I don't care.

I don't even write CD reviews anymore for Indie-Music.com. I keep hiring enough review writers to handle all those. I just do the administrative stuff. I don't miss the reviewing.

I'm proud of myself. I accomplished a lot, and it was worth the sacrifices. It didn't turn into fame and fortune, but I made my mark.

I've been debating about whether or not to self-publish my collection of essays. You know what -- why not? It will be my final project. I'll put it together, get it bound at Kinko's, make a bunch of copies, and just give them out to whomever wants them. And then I'll take myself out to a celebratory dinner and close out this chapter of my life.

I'm pretty lucky. Not many people can end a dream so easily, without bitterness, regret, or tears. And who knows? Oprah may get a hold of one of the copies of my book, and I could wind up jumping up and down on her couch and eating these very words.