Freelance Writer and Social Worker

No Health Insurance - Walking a Tightrope without a Safety Net

(Note: I'm not a doctor and nothing in this post should be considered medical advice!)

On February 1, 2012, I became one of the 46 million Americans in this country without health insurance.

When I left my social work job to work fulltime as a freelance writer last August, I planned to keep coverage from my former employer through COBRA.

After a few months of that, I realized that monthly premiums cost almost as much as my rent. Also, the plan had a $2000 deductible, so it wasn't doing me much good anyway.

But actually taking the plunge was terrifying. I have a history of bipolar disorder, diabetes (resolved after weight loss surgery), and high cholesterol. My family medical history includes heart disease and breast cancer. In other words, unless I can slide into a high risk pool, I'm pretty much uninsurable.

But it was either give up the insurance or start living on a cat food diet, and my cats are not big on the concept of sharing.

If you, too, are considering ditching your health plan, the following information may be helpful.

1. Make sure you're in good health before you go.

Before I canceled my plan, I saw all of my doctors and advised them that I would be switching from insurance to private pay. My primary care physician gave me a physical, did blood work, and sent me for a mammogram--all clear.

To Swear or Not to Swear?

Unfortunately, I happen to be very fluent in French, and not the kind that they speak in Paris. My French is more along the lines of  "[vile swear word]...oops, pardon my French."

This tendency has gotten me into some pretty embarrassing situations. When I was in my early 20s, for instance, I was driving one of my young nephews to the park when another driver cut me off so sharply that I had to slam on the brakes to avoid an accident. I won't tell you exactly what I said, but to this day, more than 20 years later, my nephew can still repeat every cringe-worthy word of it. Let's just say that I didn't win any Aunt of the Year awards for that one.

Strong language in my writing has occasionally become an issue as well. Obviously, there are some venues where it is verboten. Even I know better than to cuss like a sailor when I'm writing grants, white papers, academic pieces, and church newsletters.

But a few months ago, I was writing a case study and used the word "dammit" as part of a quotation. The editor asked me to please remove the profanity and, red faced, I did as she requested.

Being Flexible Can Help Your Writing Career Soar

There's an old joke dating back to pre-World War II days that sill makes its rounds in the military. One night, a young captain who had just taken charge of his first ship was alerted by his crew that they were on a collision course with another vessel.

The captain rushed up to the bridge and, sure enough, he could see a light that appeared to be getting closer.

He hailed the other ship, telling them to change their course.

The reply came back quickly: "You change course."

Annoyed, the young captain tapped out another message. "Advise you to change course immediately."

A moment later, he got his answer: "Advise you to change course immediately."

Now really angry, the captain pounded out, "I am a battleship!"

"I am a lighthouse."

The captain changed his course.

Like the young captain in the story, we may become so focused on one path that we don't recognize the times when the smartest move is simply to change course.

It doesn't help that this culture makes it difficult for people to admit a change of mind or heart. Look at how politicians are mocked for "flip flopping" or being "wishy washy" if they deviate so much as one word from a previously stated position.

These kinds of messages make it easy to forget that flexibility is actually a desirable characteristic. It's adaptive to allow new information to influence our choices. It's when we aren't open to new ideas or perspectives that we...well, tend to run into lighthouses.

Dear Debra - A Letter to My Sixteen-Year-Old Self

A few days ago, I read the book, "Dear Me: A Letter to My Sixteen-Year-Old Self," edited by Joseph Galliano. Celebrities from Alan Rickman (Snape, Harry Potter movies) to financial guru Suze Orman weighed in with what they wanted their younger selves to know.

That book literally crackled with ideas and hope. In fact, I thought the concept was such a good idea that I decided to look back across time and write a letter to myself, a letter that I would have been thrilled to receive when I was that age.

I've taken out some of the embarrassingly personal parts, but I've left in the advice for me as a young writer. Maybe it will help someone else out there who's struggling to make a living from words. If not, at least writing it was very cathartic. Here goes...

Dear 16-year-old Debra,

You're smiling in this picture, but I can still see the sadness in your eyes and the hurt in your heart. I know you are being horribly, methodically bullied. I also know that the next 24 months will leave you broken, exhausted, and wondering if there is any point to going on.

Don't give into those feelings of despair, child. I'm living proof that you make it through the hard tmes and come out on the other side...

...And you will live your lifelong dream of becoming a self-supporting writer. No, not writing lurid novels like the ones you like to read now--though never forget, a pseudonym is a wonderful thing--but you will be best known for your nonfiction. Your work will appear on the Internet (you'll find out what that is later) and in print.

And because I feel like I'm supposed to be the voice of wisdom here, or something, I've put together a few tips to help you along the way. I don't expect you to listen to me. Most of this shit (yeah, we curse now) is stuff you'll have to figure out as you make your own way. Then you can slap a hand to your forehead and say, "You know what? That crazy lady was right!" Anyway, here goes.

Take the Next Step as a Freelance Writer - Let Go of the Driftwood

A couple of years ago, when I was struggling to replace a self-destructive behavior with a new, healthier one, I saw a therapist who suggested an analogy I've never forgotten.

Imagine, she said, that you've survived a shipwreck and are clinging to a piece of driftwood in the middle of the ocean. You've been holding onto that driftwood for a long time. You're getting sleepy, your arms are getting tired, and the sharks are starting to circle.

Then, just when you think all hope is lost, a rescue helicopter swoops onto the scene and dangles a rescue ladder in front of you. You know that the helicopter can carry you to safety. There's just one catch. In order to grab hold of the ladder, you first have to let go of the driftwood...

That sounds easy enough, doesn't it? Let go of something that's not working in order to grasp something that you know will work better. Ah, but the catch is that terrifying moment between letting go of the old thing and grabbing onto of the new, that seemingly interminable moment when you're holding nothing.

And what happens if the helicopter and the ladder are just optical illusions, or if you grab for that ladder with the last of your strength and you miss it? These terrifying possibilities can leave you clinging to the driftwood forever...or at least until the sharks get hungry.

You've Got Mail! Why Freelance Writers SHOULD Check Email Frequently

If I've read the advice in one time management book, I've read it in a dozen: Never check email first thing in the morning. Only check email once or twice during the day. That little "ding" that lets you know when new mail arrives in your inbox is the enemy.

Rubbish. If you're a freelance writer, not checking email regularly is a habit that can cause you to lose both time and money.

Take what happened to me last Monday. On Sunday, I'd accepted a wordy, high-research, quick-turnaround job from a client. I woke up before sunrise on Monday morning, staggered my computer, and--just like all the time-management books advise--I put in two full hours of work before I checked my email. That turned out to be a big mistake, because if I'd checked first, I would have known that the client sent me an email late Sunday night canceling the project I'd just spent two hours researching.

As if that wasn't annoying enough--and it was plenty damned annoying--later that day, I missed out on an opportunity to bid on another well-paying rush job because, just like the books suggest, my email notification as turned off and I didn't get the message in time.