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.

Like a roller coaster, but less fun and potentially more vomiting.

Monday's weather was of the sort that people make iconic New York movie scenes about.

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Like this, only February, not October.
It was cool, but not cold, sunny, but not too bright.  It was Valentine's Day, so there were a disproportionate number of happy people in New York City.  Heck, I even walked through Verdi square (several times). It was a bounce-in-your-step sort of day.  The sunshine threw itself through the windows of my apartment with a dramatic verve that said, "I'm HERE! Let's go have an adventure.  The city is our oyster!"Ok, Sunshine! Bring it on!  I missed you, buddy.  You know, did I ever tell you that you're one of the things that really makes this place home?It hit me.  This place is home.  A friend of mine told me that I should be prepared to move, to follow where the wind takes me, but I'm not.  The wind blew me here and I grew roots and the sunshine, among other things nurtured me and this has grown to be home.  Watching people gleefully shlep red mylar balloons and cheery bouquets, I was suddenly very depressed.  Not for any reason that had to do with their cargo, but I watched them and wondered what they each did to get to stay here in this neighborhood to which I've become so attached.  What will I have to do to stay?  As much as my potential for achievement may be limitless, the opposite became suddenly apparant; I could utterly fail.  We may have to move and leave behind the life we've built, the home into which we've become so settled.  The weight of the possibility pushed the breath from my chest.That possibility is counterweighed by the weight resting squarely on my shoulders - the responsibility to replace my income.  The anxiety at the potential of having to leave now had a partner in uncertainty - will I be able to put together enough freelance projects to pay the rent?  If so, will I be able to handle them all?  Will I get a book deal?  Does an audience exist that is willing to listen to me whine for several hundred pages about my dead kid?Failure. Anxiety.  Uncertainty.  Terror.  WE'REALLGONNADIEPANICMODE.I later found that I had several emails from friends with potential job leads.  There were several leads, and several others pursuing them.Competition?  Oh, no.I felt compelled to act immediately.  I was already in WE'REALLGONNADIEPANICMODE. My professional life was broken and these emails were like duct tape.  I must respond!I found myself at a loss as to how to explain this to my four year old, who preferred me to read him Mickey and the Troll, or my one year old who preferred me to allow him to chew on my face. Neither of them relented (nor should they have.  What was I thinking? that this was the potential gateway moment to my professional future?  No. Just an email. It would still be there in an hour.) and I got overwhelmed.  My fear, their noise, even hair on my face, it was all too much.  I yelled about something stupid.  They both cried.I felt like shit.  Not only did I make my boys cry, it was for naught.  It's not like they learned a lesson from my tantrum.  I apologized profusely and pulled them both into my lap until the tears subsided and Moo told me I was crushing him.  I didn't want to get up.  I could have held them for hours, sitting on the floor in the last little bit of the day's sunshine.  But life had to move on.  Dinner to cook, chores to do, Moo had OT, I still had to go to work, all of this in the cloud of a panic attack.I managed to get it all done and get to work in time while anxiety coursed through me.  There, I checked my email to find that I'd been offered a blogging position.  It won't pay the rent, but maybe the electricity and the exposure will be great.  The ego boost certainly didn't hurt.  The palpitations were gone, but the residual shakiness of the panic attack was still there.  I popped out during a quiet moment at work and picked up a cupcake from My Most Favorite Food.  On the way back, I sucked in deep breaths of cold air - the weather had changed to the sort they don't mention in movies (except those that feature Santa.  He's not in the movie version of my life).  Cupcake in hand, I was fairly certain it would warm up again soon enough.

Planning ahead, looking back.

As in everything, I need to count my blessings.  This is always easier when those blessings are revealed.
The most obvious advantage in my situation is that I have TIME.  Between now and September, I can plan, network, explore and, just in case, save.  We've discussed our budget and there is not so much frivolous spending in our lives that cutting anything would make much of a difference.  We have a savings account into which we make regular deposits and when the time comes, we will G-dwilling have about 3 months rent saved.  Cutting the occasional lunch out will not significantly impact our end balance, certainly not enough to make it worth the stress of never being able to grab a bagel on the go or meet up for lunch. 
We are also not cancelling our Disney vacation.  What the future holds does not negate the fact that we have not had a family vacation in two years and May will be the end of a 6 month stretch of minimized family time and emotional strain.  Especially if we are facing uncertainty, we need the strength that can only come from being happy, together as a family.  Finally, the truth is that financially, cancelling the trip won't make that big of a difference.  A week in Disney would cover two weeks of our family's expenses in New York.  If it came down to only having two weeks to keep our heads above water, we would have had to come up with a more drastic solution than drawing on savings, anyway.  The good news about that, though is that we are halfway to earning enough to live in Disney World.
My goal is to stay in Manhattan.  Logically I know that it's expensive and that we could get by on less somewhere else, but this is home.  We are happy here and one thing I must remember through this journey is
Happiness > Money
(thank you, BB for saying that flat out.  As much as it may be common sense, when times get tough, that's one of those things that you have to see written out to believe.)
I'm not viewing my career goals so much in number signs, but as a means to achieve what I want in life.  The first thing is to be as happy as I can.  Having spent the last three and a half years believing in what I do, being proud of my job and, in fact, looking forward to going to work, I know that I will never be happy doing something that just pays the bills.  I have been shown that I have the potential to serve the community and HaShem through my work and I can't settle for less.  A great part of any journey is knowing from whence you came.  Standing here I can look back and see what I have accomplished, the impact I can make.  I can also look forward and see endless potential.

Countdown to the Cut!

So, my salary is being cut by 2/3, but not for six and a half months. I kind of saw it coming, so I'm not shocked.  I work for a non-profit that doesn't fundraise, so it just makes sense. Yes, but now what?
I want to stay in Manhattan.  We're happy in our neighborhood and we're truly at home in our apartment, so I need to replace my income.  Ideally, I'd like to even increase it, but first thing's first.
I'm going into this confident and faithful that HaShem will provide, that this is just another step on the path He has laid out for me.   I have time, I have resources, I have ambition and I have talent.  My "disadvantage," is that I have spent the last three and a half years serving the community in a meaningful way doing a job that I love and I only believe in moving forward.  I can't go from a satsifying, meaningful occupation to something menial that just pays the bills, I owe myself better than that.  As always, I work to live, I don't live to work, but I refuse to spend eight hours a day miserable to support the other sixteen. 
My main hope is writing.  I already have several freelance projects going, but I have always wanted to write a book.  I'm reading Thinking Like Your Editor, in the hopes of getting the guidance I need to put together a proposal and push my writing career forward. My speaking career is off to a good start and I have high hopes in that arena as well.
I've consolidated all of my professional ventures at http://www.hiimyael.com/.  I'm accessable, I'm flexible, I'm ready to roll. Let's see what's out there