#11 Donate your skills.

I realize I’ve been tapping into my bank account for many of these acts of kindness – and while there’s nothing wrong with that – I know this isn’t always a possibility for some.

So today’s post is going to start with my zero-cost act of kindness, followed by a long enthusiastic digression about a book I’ve been obsessing about for the last 24 hours. I promise they’re related. Hang in there with me.

I’m a professional writer by trade. I use the term “writer” very tentatively as the content I’m producing for the aforementioned large financial conglomerate I’m currently employed by isn’t exactly making me leap out of bed with excitement each morning. But nevertheless, an unenthused writer I am.

I typically resist getting suckered into the unglamorous pro bono task of editing friends’ work (and resumes), but since I am trying to be less of an asshole these days, I made an exception to edit a letter of inquiry a friend sent my way. She’s just started in her new role at a pretty awesome not-for-profit organization, so a second set of eyes and some quick (albeit somewhat anal) edits helped her feel more confident submitting it. Huzzah!

Warning: This is where my digression begins. 

Number one, Elizabeth Gilbert is my fucking spirit animal. Number two, if you’ve ever struggled with wanting to live a more creative life, read Big Magic. Right now.

I won’t launch into a full book review (even thought I’m tempted), but one my favourite chapters is titled “Your Day Job” and recounts how Liz did not quit her day job until she had already written three books (all published by major houses; not some dinky e-books). She explains that she never wanted her writing to be burdened with the responsibility for paying for her life. So she sucked it up and worked a day job until she was financially secure enough to just be a writer.

In donating my writing skills today – in conjunction with reading Big Magic – I realized that I lead a very privileged life. Despite being a corporate drone, I’m a corporate drone who gets to practice her craft each day in some way. I get paid to sit and write. Who cares if it’s corporate dribble? It’s my dribble.

And then once my paycheque has cleared, I get to go home to my overpriced shoebox in the sky, pour myself a glass of wine, put on some of my favourite jams and write about things that matter to me.

I wasn’t quite sure what I started this project for (besides my attempt at former mean girl rehabilitation), but it feels like I’m starting to connect dots I never knew existed before.

Total Kindness Cost: $0



    • Thanks, Tammi. Glad you’re enjoying it. Lovely comment to come home to. 🙂

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