Well, that explains it.

After sending out half a dozen resumes with no responses, I sat down with a headhunter.  Apparantly, my resume sucks.  The shame of it is that what I have been doing for the last four years is barely relevant to anything and all of my relevant experience is years old.  I thought that made it useless, but apparantly not.  I added all my old experience, reworded stuff, and resubmitted to the headhunter.  We'll see what he says. 
Now I'm upset because I applied to several great jobs for which I really am qualified, but I sent them the bad resume and I wonder if I could just sneak in the new one with a slightly jazzier cover letter and maybe they'll never know the difference?  Pay no attention to the resume behind the curtain!
I was busy at work until 11:30 last night, so I did all this resume work this morning with the boys home and all over me.  This is not the ideal work situation and, in fact has me more than a little cynical, misanthropic and kind of wondering how early is too early to start drinking?  I kid, I kid.  It's always 5pm somewhere, right? It's NEVER too early.
Anyway, my pursuit of gainful employment has us skipping the playground this morning as I beg, BEG the boys to keep themselves entertained.  I know, I know, any serious working mother worth her salt would have been able to accomplish a resume update from the playground while pushing them both on the swing, or I would have sent them off with a babysitter, but I just can't afford it.  Which brings me to the next great conflict; for me to work full time, I will have to hire a full time babysitter.  That means I have to factor someone else's salary into my salary requirements, not to mention rent and incidentals.  Which begs the question; am I worth it?  What can I offer any company that is worth that much money?  I have worked in the same place for four years and THEY don't think I'm worth it, why would a new place value me any more than the place to which I have tried to prove myself worthy for the last four years.
This is my fear, friends, the great concern that is asserting itself as a belief - I am not worth it.  Not to anyone.
I move from room to room, taking in the details, the way things fit and belong, the pieces we've augmented to make everything work, the elements that make it beautiful and make it home.  In my head I speak to the walls, to the tree across the street "I'm doing it for you.  To stay inside your borders, because you have contained so much of our lives and I don't know how to live outside of you.  I'm setting out on this journey to ascertain my value because I want to keep coming home to you."
And then I realize, I'm talking to a wall, and a tree.  And I don't know what good any of it will do. 

HIRE.ME.

Is there an internet equivalent of standing on a busy corner with a sandwich board that says "Hire me!"  Because it worked for that guy on Wall Street.  Can we turn this blog into one of those internet sensations like the email from the crazy mother in law? 
I've emailed half a dozen agents, sent out almost twice as many resumes, and in a few days I'll meet with a friend of ours who is a headhunter. Til then, I'm just waiting.  I have a hopeful response from an agent, but that doesn't mean that it will not very shortly be time to start stocking up on boxes and packing tape.
I'm really scared and I feel like I'm reaching the end of what I can do to help myself.  Tell your friends, and have them tell their friends.  I need a job like yesterday.

Book Proposal! Job Hunting! Fear.

I finished my book proposal package and took the next step:  I started sending queries to agents.  My proposal package is great.  My writing sample demonstrates my talent and the tone of the book.  My chapter outline is fluid and clear.  My proposal is convincing.  It's all very well written, if I do say so myself.  The problem? 
Prospective agents don't want to see any of that yet.
My only chance to impress an agent is by sending a query.  And it's not like I can spend hours on my query like I did the other parts of my proposal and write the single best query you'll ever see in your life and send that to all the agents.  No.  Each agent wants something a little bit different.  They want to read a letter from me and decide whether or not to rep my book.  But it's not a book of letters and I'm not a letter-writer!  I'm a story-writer! 
I've gotten two rejections so far.  I sent out seven queries, so I guess that's five rejections left to go.  I know, I know tracht gut veh zein gut, but I'm finding that I need a little zein gut so I can start trachting better.  I've got four weeks to replace my income before we have to find somewhere new to live.  I keep looking around this apartment with such heartbreaking affection.  So much of our lives have happened in these walls that I can't imagine leaving it behind, and if we do have to, I'll feel at fault because it is my income that keeps us here.  It is all very upsetting and worrisome and my overall outlook has been effected.  It is hard to be cheerful with the threat of moving looming.
I've started applying for 9-5 jobs.  As much as something fulfilling and uplifting would be ideal, having spent so long doing a job I love for wonderful people and serving G-d, to boot, I'm not holding my breath.  I need to pay the rent and a babysitter, and as long as I can cover those, I can work on finding my dream job or getting my book published without worry of finding my family looking for new digs. 
Through it all, my dignity is taking a beating.  The salary cut, the query rejection, the job hunt; it's a long series of "You're not good enough"s.  If I had a better attitude, it could be a series of "one step closer to success"s, but I'm finding that attitude really difficult to culminate right now.  There's also the worry of if I'm doing it wrong.  About one o'clock this morning, I wondered if those half dozen or so resume cover letters I emailed out should have been in business letter format...but do you do that for an email?
I need a boost.  A positive response from an agent, a promising letter from a prospective employer, the winning lottery numbers.  SOMETHING.  Until then, the countdown continues.

Putting it out there.

So, my ~*~BIG PLAN~*~ is to write a book.  You know, one of those life changing, poignant yet funny, so popular that it becomes a part of everyone's pop language books.  Simple, right?
First, I read Thinking Like Your Editor and used that as a guide to write my proposal.  Once that was finished, I consulted a friend for help refining it.  She also has connections with literary agents and is willing to make some introductions.  This is pretty awesome.  In the meantime, though, time is getting short.  I look around at my home and I know that I could potentially only live here another two and a half months.
The thought devastates me.  So much of our life has happened in these walls.  This space is hallowed by so many precious moments both somber and joyful.  To leave it behind, especially if the choice is not entirely ours to go, is not a misfortune I wish to bring upon my family.  So I feel the urge to DO something. 
I have begun sending queries to agents.  Each agent requests a differently formatted query with different information.  Today I sent out three queries.  I feel that this was a true stretch of my creative ability.  You see, I'm a great story teller and a pretty talented creative writer, I feel that my work speaks for itself.  But when I have to speak for my work?  Hurp de durp.  It's a mess.  When I saw all these agents just wanted cover letters in which I essentially sell my project, I felt a little panicked.  Sell my project?  You mean you don't just want your heartstrings pulled?  Can't I just show you the part that will make you cry and you won't be able to tell if it's because you're happy or sad??  Ok, ok, I'll write a letter.  All I have to do is write one really good one and just change the name at the top.  Right?
NO?
You all want to know different stuff?  LISTEN.  I write good.  I write real good.  This'll be a big hit at the book store and the lie-berry!

After a conversation with a publisher.

The fun thing about writing is...that it's fun. The problem with doing fun work is that getting paid for it is sometimes seen as a bonus.  You know what's really fun?  Food writing.  I do a lot of that. The way food writing generally works is someone sends me some food to try, or I go somewhere and try the food, and then I write about it.  Yay!  Free food!  And writing is fun!  I'm so lucky to get to do this and then I'm even luckier that someone wants to publish my food-writing somewhere that lots of people will read it, so I'm superlucky because I get to share my fun food writing with the world.
But see, this is still work.  A job being enjoyable, does not make it any less a job, nor does it make me any less entitled to being paid a living wage to do it.  For my last restaurant review, I went to lunch and then dinner, had long talks with the owners of the restaurants and researched online.  That article took about 8 hours of work for which I'm getting a begrudged hundred dollars and comments about how there are other writers who would love to do this job for free.
So, what is the definition of work, then?  Work is an activity performed for pay, disliked by the worker.  Am I asking too much, to get paid *and* enjoy the time spent?  Is it only worth the paycheck if I earn it while miserable?  Does that give me more leverage?  I hated writing this crap! Cough it up!
But there's the rub!  I write best and do the best work when I am interested, invested in, and enjoying what I am doing.  So, if I am to be paid for my highest quality work, I should be paid for what I enjoy the most.
Right

The ~*~BIG~*~ plan

The ~*~BIG~*~ plan

I just wrote the first page of my book proposal.  One down, anywhere from nine to nineteen to go.
I have started my sample chapter.
I'm organizing my table of contents. 
This is absolutely gut wrenching.  The process of turning grief into literature is like turning flour into dough, but I'm the mixer. I'm measuring, adding and stirring with all my strength. I'm pulling and pushing and kneading.  I'm reliving every moment as I write about it, revising it to make it more readable, more fluid, add perspective from where I now stand.  It is the hardest writing I have ever done.  I have to not only get myself into the creative space, but I have to write, then pause and rest my heart, then go back to it. I know, in the end it will be the most rewarding, but what a journey it will be to put this together.

...I also revised my resume, you know, just in case.

When College Jumped the Shark: Why I don't have a degree.

Part of preparing to reincarnate my career is assembling my resume.  One of the first things listed on a resume should be education.  Well, on mine I have "Florida State University: 2000-2004".  No degree listed, because I didn't get one. I started college determined to go to law school, because I wanted to be wealthy and powerful and wear nice outfits in all the TV shows, that's what being a lawyer looked like.  Every now and then on a TV lawyer would go to court and FIGHT for JUSTICE.  They would win their case and the respect of the curmudgeon judge because they had spunk and truly believed in what they were doing.  Or, if it was Ally McBeal, she'd win because she was cute and quirky and ruling in her favor took less time than listening to why her latest hallucination proved her client right.  Anyway, I figured I would be a good lawyer because I believed in fighting for justice and if that didn't work, I could pull off cute and quirky.
Well you know what?  Pre-law classes are BORING.  There were no crusades for justice and I didn't get to wear any suits.  But I really liked to write, and it turns out you can get a degree in that, so I changed my major.  English courses are a whole lot of reading, and I love to read, so we got along well.  Then I really got into my major courses.  My short story writing course didn't teach us much about writing short stories except not to write about people dying or falling in love.  As far as the structure, the professor told us to rely on what we'd learned in high school.
But what about the eternal wisdom of Simon and Garfunkel?!
In high school, I learned the power paragraph/pyramid structure; a strong introductory paragraphy that goes gradually into more detail, followed by paragraphs that follow that idea going gradually into greater detail.  Thinking Like Your Editor says that structure is no longer favored.
I'm gonna go with Simon and Garfunkel on this one.
Later came the poetry writing course.  We'd read different forms of poetry then write something inspired thereby.  The grading was very loose.  Poetry is a fluid genre, it's hard for the professor to be subjective, I understand that.  When we started learning about certain poets, the same applied.  The professor did not want to pass judgement not only on their work, but on their lifestyles.  Some poets live pretty far off the mainstream, which influences their art, I'm sure, so without these choices, they wouldn't have such contributions to literature.  When we came to Allen Ginsburg, my professor said, "He was an active member of NAMBLA, and you know, that's cool."

That was the moment that I realized - and English Degree was a collection of entirely subjective information, which may or may not prepare me for a writing career.  That statement wasn't the only thing that lead me to this epiphany.  That semester I was taking a class that taught a book that may or may not have been a novel, non-fiction narrative, or meta-advertisement, it was up to the reader to decide.  I was also taking a class that taught only Frankenstein (FRONKENTSHTEEN) stories in all their permutations, because that's what the professor's thesis was about. The degree I was slated to get was not about what I wanted to learn, but about the people teaching me.I think I've turned into a pretty decent writer, despite the lack of letters after my name.  The question is, will that absence keeep me out of the running for other jobs, regardless of my actual talent?  I guess I'm about to find out.