Writing During Retirement

After struggling with an unexpected, early retirement for years, I am finally looking forward to each day. 

Each day, I’m calling mine.

“I couldn’t possibly write during retirement,” said one “expert” who is a self-published author, college professor and writing coach.

Oh yeah?  When I heard this woman say this at a writing seminar, I shut down and could no longer take her seriously.  As usual, I don’t fit the norm.  In my opinion, writing during retirement is the best time to write.

When it comes to writing for money, I didn’t enjoy it.  I worked odd jobs while I attended Sac State.  I worked as a reporter, photographer and a magazine writer.  As a graphic artist without any art training, I winged it.  I remember making signs for a conference and was given a week to do it.  I finished the project over the weekend and had my hand out for payment early Monday morning.

My brother and I tried our hand at submitting magazine articles long before we were teenagers.  We didn’t know anything about queries and pitching ideas.  We wrote the articles and submitted them.  I remember getting stacks of rejection letters.  Some of them were polite and wished us luck.  Some of them were the industry standard--form letters stuffed into our self-addressed, stamped envelopes along with our manuscripts.

If you’re established as a writer, you can write your ticket as a magazine writer.  I didn’t enjoy magazine work back then, and I certainly don’t enjoy it now.  Magazine writing means pitching your ideas and it’s the editor who calls the shots.  I don’t like waiting on anyone.  Magazine editors take their sweet time and can take months to get back to you.

Deadlines never bothered me.  I remember being the intern at a city newspaper.  No one took me seriously until I wrote 300 wedding announcements in less than a week.  In the features department, it was a longtime joke among the editors and reporters when I completed the wedding announcements and kept up with them because writing wedding announcements was beneath them.  But once I completed those wedding announcements, the features editor let me choose my assignments.  I found out that a lot of business owners wrote the editor and invited her to visit, and she only picked the stories which interested her.  She sent me, instead.  I was given the option of taking photos or brought along the disgruntled staff photographer who didn't want to be seen with the rookie reporter.

I remember working for an editor whose favorite line was, “You write the way I want you to write because I’m the editor.”  To me, it sounded like, "Because I'm the Mommy, that's why!"  He had invested his life savings in the publication, but it folded in three months.  I was glad to jump that sinking ship.

I worked for a magazine editor who kept three Wham-O Superballs on her desk.  Whenever her boss left the room and closed the door behind him, she threw the Superballs at the door and let them bounce all over her office.  Superballs were hard enough to kill you.  I learned to stay away from her office whenever the Big Boss was around.    

Unlike a lot of people these days, my 23 years of mostly working jobs I hated or being around people I couldn’t stand has finally paid off.  I do have a pension, which helps with the bills.  I'm not struggling to make ends meet or living off a steady diet of Top Ramen and peanut butter sandwiches.  If I make an effort, I can put some money aside and invest in my hobbies.  I’m not like a lot of retirees I know.  I don’t stick to one interest.  I am always willing to try something new, and if it doesn’t work out, I move on. 

These days, I’m back to my writing.  It is my passion.  Sure, I pursue other things, but when you work for a living, a lot of things which bring you joy get pushed aside.  My case of Writer’s Block was simply letting my day jobs consume me.   

I don’t know a lot of people who love their jobs for years.  I only know that when you start a job, there’s so much promise.  But as the years go by, there’s a good chance you’ll slip into a routine and become bored and bitter. 

After a few false starts, I write every day.  If I’m not writing, I’m jotting things down in my writer’s journal.  I usually keep the journal with me.  In my waking hours and in my dreams, I am always getting ideas.

This past year, I’ve tried my hand at freelancing.  I also tried online writing for money.  For 7 months, I had a writing project assigned to me.   I slipped into my workaholic ways and did nothing but write from 7:30 a.m. to 11:30 p.m.  I didn’t move from my laptop, and my left leg became swollen from inactivity. 

I told my husband I was suffering from the Little Lotta syndrome.  Do you remember Little Lotta?  She was a cartoon character whose best friends were Dot Polka and Richie Rich.

Jack is 11 years younger than me, so when I mentioned Little Lotta—well, it showed the difference in our ages.  He never heard of Little Lotta and her friends.    For months, I had a swollen left leg which was triple the size of my right leg.

“This could be an indication of a stroke down the road,” said my doctor.  He sent me in for blood tests, but the results were negative. 

When I quit the online work and stopped living my days in front of my laptop, the swelling disappeared.

I know plenty of writers who are willing to support themselves doing online work.  I don’t know how they do it because online work does not pay the living expenses.  For the time you put it, online work pays pennies.  I don't know where these people get the idea that writers make tons of money with online work.  On the Internet, everyone can be an expert.  

Usually, you aren’t given a byline.  I’ve been out of the writing loop for years, and I could not understand why all these writers and editors with years of training and experience settle for way less than scale. 

Being retired has given me the luxury of writing for the pure joy of it.  My retirement was not planned, but I live with it.  I still have a mortgage and bills, but the freedom of writing for me is mine.  I write what I feel like writing, and I make my own deadlines.  I’ve worked with editors who feel a need to change my work.  Writers write and editors edit.   

Now, if I don’t like what an editor is doing with my work and decides to change most of it, I walk.  I never respected anyone who insists “My way or the highway”.  I don’t care for perfectionists, control freaks or anyone who must follow a rigid path.  This does not work with me. When it comes down to it, I am the boss.  In retirement, I am the boss of my writing and my life.

As a writer and as Arlene, I certainly am not a people pleaser.  No one is going to get out their little red pen and tell me how to write.  I don't worship money or material things, and I'm not desperate to put food in my mouth or pay a utility bill.  I know an experienced editor who is willing to accept $2 for each 300-word article she edits.  With that kind of pay, you might as well volunteer your work or do it for free.  

So, in retirement, I am the boss of my life.  When it comes to my writing, I write for me.  I don’t worry about getting paid for my work, getting millions for a best seller or a big fat contract for my next book.  After all those years of answering to editors in the name of money, I feel truly blessed and grateful that I am now working for my favorite boss.

I find it a pleasure to work for me.