The Multifaceted Writer: Directions

By Jessica Quillin

I started this column over a month ago with the goal of sharing my experiences as a writer who purposefully wears many hats working across different fields. Yet, for me, I think this past week is the first time that I have ever felt completely confident in applying the title “Writer” to my own profession.

Like many professionals, I sometimes feel like I am having a constant identity crisis when it comes to my career. I don’t think that I figured out what it is that I actually do and, in turn, what I want to do for a living until I started doing it. This may seem cliché and silly since I’ve been working in content and communications for over a decade. Yet, I think that I’ve spent so much time working in a project- or deadline-driven manner that I’ve never allowed myself the time to step back to understand and contextualize what I was working on, if that makes any sense.

Like many female authors, I can easily say that I have wanted to be a writer since the age of 9 when I first read Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women. The notion that Mr. Bhaer could identify the protagonist, Jo March, as a writer by her ink-stained hands was enough to make me run for the nearest fountain pen (a tool that has never seemed to work quite right for me). After having my first haiku about rainbows published in my elementary school newspaper, I felt destined for future success as a writer.

Yet, university and later graduate school somewhat muddled my professional goals, setting my sights first on teaching and then on not teaching without any strong sense of direction. This lack of focus, if you want to call it that, led to many interesting professional opportunities in communications and marketing and then applied education research. However, all along, I had a lingering sense of anxiousness over my profession and professional development.

Of course, this unsettled-ness was augmented by my continuing battle toward and away from academia. As I described a few weeks ago, I have applied to every available teaching job over the past 7 years almost out of habit. It’s as if I’ve been afraid that if I stopped applying for these university jobs, then the academic/literary side of me would dry up. This fear was magnified as my day job became increasingly bureaucratic, requiring only marginal brainpower and zero creativity.

Now, however, things are different, only it’s taken me a while to realize it. I’ve been so busy since April setting up my business, bringing in clients, and doing work that I’ve scarcely had time to sleep, never mind reflect on my efforts. Indeed, on vacation last week, my husband joked that I was a perfect advertisement for Blackberry on the power of handheld devices for small business, as I typed furiously under an awning in the middle of a rainstorm waiting for a bus to carry us to our next destination.

Workaholic tendencies aside, I nevertheless feel rather sheepish in relation to my writing business. I read so much about the trials of the freelance life and the number of small businesses that fold within the first year that it’s all I can do to keep my head down and focus on what I am trying to do. Yet, as I mentioned in my column two weeks ago, I have been fast approaching a very large fork in the road. After having fought a seemingly endless war over limited academic positions in my field, I was flattered when the director of a local university’s professional writing program approached me with an offer to teach two advanced undergraduate courses. However, I was left at an impasse as to whether or not I could balance teaching with my other commitments and, frankly, whether or not it made any sense given my current professional direction.

The teaching offer finally came through last week. I was on vacation, so I allowed myself a few days to procrastinate, but also to reflect on what I wanted to do. The decision? I opted not to teach--at least not this year. With several new client prospects on the horizon, with an academic book nearing completion, and with a paid research paper in the works, writing seemed the more sensible and the most exciting option. It’s a much more unpredictable path, at least in terms of financial continuity, as well as one that is arguably less familiar to my university roots. Yet, I feel like I can always turn back to teaching at a later stage when my business is more firmly established.

So, I’m embracing my virtual ink-stained palms. Maybe I’m fooling myself, but I feel more like a writer with a capital “W” after this decision. I want to pursue this profession of words, ideas, and syntax and see where I end up. Perhaps throwing myself into my writing business is a risk, yet I no longer feel lost and submerged by work even while I’m immersed in it. Plus, it’s incredibly refreshing to be able to approach work with passion and creativity and to feel motivated about what I’m doing.
But, now that I’ve turned left at the fork in the road, where exactly am I going? Ah, back to pitching, writing, revising, writing, and revising….

Jessica Quillin owns Quillin Consulting, LLC, a consultancy in Washington, DC, focused on content development, research, and strategy for the public and private sectors. She holds a Ph.D. in English literature from the University of Cambridge.