Truth be told, since graduating college I’ve just been avoiding a job. Avoiding a job and trying to paint that process as a career. The first step was Life on Standby, a book I began to write after finding my way into free plane tickets in college (Cal Poly, San Luis Obispo). I shopped it around to publishers and literary agents and though I was fortunate enough to land some enviable meetings about the project, redrafting the book under well-regarded guidance—I didn’t land that major deal.
I self-published the book. A generous friend designed and set the type, and I did everything from editing to purchasing the hard copies to shameless self-promotion, right on down to packing and shipping. You won’t find it at brick-and-mortar retailers,but 30(ish) bookshops and boutiques on the West Coast shelved it, and I’ve either shipped it or have had pictures of it sent to me from seventeen countries. In terms of recognition or revenue, you’re not going be impressed by the numbers, but, at least in terms of geography, I’m able to find something to smile about. It’s now available for free on my blog. Have at it.
While working on Life on Standby, I was modeling (mostly in San Francisco) to pay the bills (which I didn’t really have because I was living with my parents). Standing in front of a camera is fine, but as I went on doing it, it became obvious that the trade didn’t cater to any true aspiration. It was and is an income opportunity not to pass up, but as I participated in more shoots I ended up forming a more genuine interest in the behind-the-camera stuff. Eventually, I bought my own. And I played with it a whole lot.
I continued to strive toward becoming a full-on author. I set up book events and attempted more marketing pushes, but the fact that it wouldn’t be a reliable, stabilizing job any time soon became self-evident. I held a not-too-shitty business degree from not-too-shitty school, but the thought of it seeing real-world application was terrifying. So, I purchased an around-the-world ticket. I rationalized that it was to get into the mind of a character for a new book, but it was probably more just me delaying the moment where I’d have to put dreams aside and grow up a bit. Regardless of the reason, I bought the ticket. I did start a couple of new writing projects, but I also brought that camera I mentioned, and with it I discovered a new, wordless way to tell a story. I consistently posted pictures and accompanying rants while I traveled, and as feedback rolled in I contemplated whether or not the whole photography thing was worth looking into as an addition to the roster of my illusory career. In a stroke of luck, it made the cut.
That’s where I’m at now. I don’t live with my parents anymore, but don’t let that trick you into thinking I’m any more responsible for it. Paycheck to paycheck I gather up any sort of freelance gig that tumbles in front of me. I write for anyone who likes my writing, I shoot for anyone who likes my photography, and when the opportunity comes up I’ll still stand in front of the camera. I’m all over the place really, but the part of it all that I first fell in love with is still the part that drives me today. The storytelling. That’s what gives me my high—what offers me unambiguous happiness. Though I enjoy the dice-rolling for now, I still have that title of full-on author in my crosshairs. And there are projects I'm scratching at with that in mind.
We all start somewhere, and I’m not ashamed to admit that in the grand scheme of things, that’s still what I’m doing—starting. Who wants to be finished, anyway? Where’s the excitement then?
