For more reading about living a creative life, check out my creative manifesto and my tips for adjusting to the real world after college, as a recovering over-achieving perfectionist.
I’ve deeply missed writing for you these last few weeks. It’s filled me with a sense of dread and a strange hollowness. But there is big news! I start a new full-time job this Monday. While things have turned a corner, I wish I could say that I’m thriving. I’ve had a wild ride these last few years, publishing my books and articles, teaching workshops, and launching my Kickstarter campaign, but as many of you know, I’ve run out of money (boo).
The main problem was that I started putting too much pressure on The Intimacy Journal and my creative projects to sustain me, like I was prematurely squeezing all the juice out of a beautiful piece of fruit that should have been left the f**k alone. It’s taken some painfully slow months, yet I’ve finally landed a job I’m excited about. And while previous-me might have considered getting a corporate job a betrayal, I’m here to share how a regular paycheck is offering me a renewed creative life that is already growing out of the ashes.
My grandmother died a few weeks ago, the day after my final-round interview for my new job, bringing a bittersweet end to six grueling months in and out of the hospital. The last day she was alive, I told her about a story I’m writing about her becoming free by scattering her remains into the ocean (more on that in another piece). It came to me during the darkest moments of her final days. Since I went to help her through a heart operation in March, my body already knew it was the beginning of the end. Until now, I’ve been carrying the anticipatory grief and the heaviness of losing one of my closest family members. I was also crashing out under the financial and emotional stress of going into debt. I’ve really just been taking it day by day for months now. I only recently lost the strength to write, which, you know, is extremely unusual for me.
I’ve since got on a plane to Los Angeles, where I’ll be based for my new gig, because US remote job opportunities be like that, leaving me even more unmoored and disoriented. It seems that life keeps life-ing. I’m going to be splitting my time between California and Mexico, which has some upsides too, as I’ll share. Since my grandmother died, I have finally been able to look at life with more lightness. I’ve started looking forward to what I’ll build creatively in the next 25 years, when I anticipate my parents will die (morbid, but true!). Let me fill you in on what happened and how it’s changing my perspective on living a creative life.
1. I ran out of money 😵.
I don’t regret creating The Intimacy Journal last summer, when my contract with my dream client, Clue, finished, but I definitely didn’t have enough runway. After landing a couple of big-time Intimacy Writing Workshops, like at Soho House in Mexico City, things were looking up. Meanwhile, I reached out to about a hundred potential clients for Growth & SEO work, and the Clue team even introduced me to a few leads. But nothing stuck. I couldn’t sign a new client, or my potential clients didn’t have budget. I was also smacked over the head existentially with “AI-is-automating-away-all-jobs,” and I was genuinely freaking out that I’d never get hired as a human being to do paid work ever again. Maybe, like the inevitability of my grandma’s passing, my freelance opportunities were over months before I called it quits.
I then had to do what no self-respecting, independent 31-year-old woman with a business degree wants to do: I sold my index fund investments for cash. Then, when that cash dried up, I debated paying the giant penalty to withdraw early from my 401(k). Instead, I decided to take advantage of my privilege and borrow money from my family. Once I was able to pay my rent again, I faced the impossible task of finding a job with very little structured work experience over the last five years, entering one of the worst job markets ever. Cool, cool, cool.
2. Trying to monetize my art was stressful 🥵.
I figured giving more workshops could be a way to fund my creative life. But after months of procrastinating on workshop outreach, I realized I just didn’t want to do it. I don’t know why I couldn’t motivate myself. I guess I’ve simply enjoyed writing and designing The Intimacy Journal a lot more.
I know social comparison is the devil, but I’ve watched other graduates from my university, like Jon Youshaei, become extremely stinking rich in 2-3 years through their creative careers. Yet here I am, four and a half years in, and nothing close to that has worked out for me. Perhaps I’ve been more choosy about how I monetize my art after trying out a couple of different formats. But definitely, I’m having to accept that it might take longer and be more difficult to monetize intimacy writing and erotic poetry than teaching content creators how to make money online.
Still, with a stable paycheck on the way, beautiful things are starting to happen. Ideas for books I had years ago are popping back into my head again, like one about character sketches called “Portraits.” Maybe it’s not the most monetizable thing ever, but I’m excited that once I have a bit more money, I can put resources into developing the ideas, paying editors, printing, drop-shipping, and all the fun, expensive stuff that scaling a creative business actually requires. I just need to be smart about balancing my schedule and my energy to keep making it happen.
3. I didn’t expect this crappy job market, or to feel this isolated 👔.
I love living in Mexico, but this current job market gave me a rude awakening. The days of getting a fully remote job in Mexico are basically over, as many companies are now “hybrid,” meaning you work from home a couple of days a week, but you’re tethered to your office (and city) by one handcuff instead of two. They decide what to pay you based on where you live, and those pay differences can be brutal, especially comparing the US to Mexico.
I got to the final round at Substack, but unfortunately, it was for a Data Analyst role (rendering me a data monkey again, sad), and they’ve switched to hybrid from San Francisco or New York, both places where I have lived before and have no interest in returning to. They liked me enough to interview me for a Product Manager role in Creator Activation, which would have been a great fit because I am really passionate about helping people tell their stories. However, lacking legit “Product Manager” experience in a crowded market, I hit a dead end.
In my darkest hour, I realized I needed to woman up a bit. I’m privileged, again, to have US work authorization (my mother’s family is from Los Angeles), so staying in Mexico was severely narrowing my job options and leaving a lot of money on the table. Of course, I could live in Mexico and work on a Mexican salary. That’s literally what millions of Mexican people do, and I’m fully aware that I sound like an entitled princess because I can get on a plane and fly to Los Angeles to make more money whenever I want to. But I’m not getting a full-time job just for the fun of it. I have books to print and s**t to do; if anything, printing and scaling my books in the US is the next step in my growth. I needed to put my big girl pants on and get my bag.
Many of my foreign migrant worker / “expat” friends in Mexico City are making the same move. Meanwhile, other people lie about their whereabouts to their companies, or their teams just don’t know where they are. But that’s not really my vibe. I don’t enjoy lying to people; the stress of it is more than it’s worth to me. So I guess I’ll be spending more time with family and friends in California.
Stick around for my corporate era! 👩🏼🏫
4. I needed clarity on what the f**k to do next 💡.
Swimming in a giant pile of rejections, with my grandmother back in the hospital, I just couldn’t send out another resume. The “apply-to-job-to-get-an-interview” thing wasn’t working. So, I did what every person on the verge of debt should never do: I spent the last dollars of my own money and took myself on a fancy weekend nature retreat.
I took a bus from Mexico City, then a taxi for an hour. I carried my suitcase like Fraulein Maria, and bags of all the food I’d need for my stay, and I plonked myself down in the middle of the forest outside of Valle de Bravo in a fancy glamping cabaña hotel. The taxi driver was extremely confused about why I was doing this to myself when he dropped me off there. There was no internet, no phone signal, and no electricity. Yes, I was completely alone in the forest for about 48 hours, apart from the groundskeeper who came to replenish my firewood. And yes, it was terrifying, especially at night. I had to fall asleep with my eyes open because the animals and rain in the forest were so loud, I was sure I was on the verge of being axe-murdered.
But I needed to be with my thoughts and clear away all the distractions to figure out what I was going to do. My path revealed itself rather quickly. These were tough times, I realized. We were not living in the tech paradise of 2018 when I graduated from college, where with every third job application I’d at least get a phone screening with a recruiter. I had only gotten three interviews, and I immediately declined one because it was an AI data role and I knew I’d hate it. That left two companies I actually wanted to work at: Substack, which had already rejected me and required locations I didn’t want, and Graphite, a growth agency based out of San Francisco.
I’ve been following one of Graphite’s founders, Ethan Smith, for almost four years since he first appeared on Lenny’s Podcast in 2022. Truth be told, I had used a lot of Graphite’s free SEO tools with my own clients and gotten great results. Working at Graphite would solve my money problem, my professional isolation problem, and my legitimacy problem in the SEO industry. Plus, they’re really into research, so I’d probably learn something.
When I got back to Mexico City, I literally sent it. I sent the emails. I sent the work sample. I did the interviews. Not to be dramatic, but given what I was actually looking for in a role, I had no Plan B. But anyway, when it comes to making a decision that’s potentially worth hundreds of thousands of dollars (i.e., your salary over the next few years), the bite of $450 to get yourself to the forest is totally worth it.
Send this to your friend who likes forests! 🌲
5. Despite it all, I’ve grown a lot creatively 🌿.
It turns out that being rich and being wealthy are two different things. Living in Mexico has enriched my life in countless ways. I now speak Spanish fluently, and I love connecting with random abuelas wherever I go. My bank account may be in the negative, but what I’ve gained from Mexico is priceless. That’s why I’ve resisted going back to corporate work for this long. I’ve also been #blessed with an abundance of time. Mexico has afforded me space and time to publish two books, write and publish thousands of words on my blog, start new book concepts, attend writing meetups whenever I want, and curate poetry. This was while being inspired by one of the most complex and intricate art civilizations in the world, from the Wixárika shamans and indigenous people to Frida Kahlo to Luis Barragán.
I feel a lot more creatively satisfied than I did four and a half years ago, and I am so grateful to Mexico for giving me that. I can return to corporate to pay my bills while feeling a lot less existential dread about everything.
Read more about me being rich despite having no money.
6. I have met my guardian angels 🪽.
When I lived in New York, I hardly knew any working artists. This sucked because when I expressed dissatisfaction with my tech job, my friends just shrugged. We were all overpaid and miserable, and there seemed to be no way out. But since moving to Mexico City, I’ve been extremely lucky to have met incredible creatives who are actually building lives around their work. They’ve helped me see what’s possible and give myself grace: building a great creative life takes a long time.
Just last week, I was feeling exceptionally lost when I found myself at a house party. In a little corner of conversation, on my right was Rob Woodcox, the photographer whose series, Birth of a Tide, I was honored to be part of, and on my left was Barbie Williams, an amazing singer from Argentina, whose music I listen to on Spotify. Rob and Barbie are real working artist friends of mine whose work I deeply admire. As I shared just how much they both meant to me, I felt all gooey and mushy inside (maybe because I’d had a drink or two, lol). I promised myself in that moment that if I was ever struggling creatively, I would imagine them as two angels sitting on my shoulders. They remind me that we are all on our own timelines, and the point is to keep playing and have fun.
I’m grateful to know my creative guardian angels in human form. Keeping them close to my heart helps me keep the dream alive.
Conclusion: So what happens to my creative life now? 🧐
When it comes to being creative, I have the memory of a goldfish. If I don’t work on one small writing-related thing every single day, the dream doesn’t feel real to me. I start to lose it. I get anxious. I feel stressed, depressed, and sad. And the prospect of doing that alongside a full-time job honestly seems a bit daunting. But I want to take one creative step every day.
I’m coming at corporate work completely differently this time. When I previously signed my job offers, I had nothing to declare in Exhibit A of my “excluded inventions.” This time, I’ve spent multiple business days carving out legal protections for my intellectual property and book projects. Everything from being “shamelessly sexy,” to my two blogs, to my Growth Experiments page, from Spanish translations of my books (that I’m working on!) to new manuscripts in the works. It’s a small but mighty body of work, and much like my college degree, these are things that nobody can take away from me. I have something to show for myself, and I’ve chosen to prioritize my creative self again, even when no one else will.
Overall, I’ve found solace in the words of Big Daddy Creative Philosophy Man, Rick Rubin. In his chapter, “The Art Habit” from “The Creative Act: A Way of Being” he says,
“Consider another way to make a living. Success is harder to come by when your life depends on it.”
“It’s okay to have a job that supports your art habit. Doing both is a better way of keeping the art pure…All paths are of equal merit.”
So, in the next few months, I’ll be figuring out how much of my writing and creative momentum I can maintain while I’m working full-time, keeping up our regular cadence of 1-2 articles per month. After such a rotten six months, I’m cautiously optimistic about what next year might bring, especially because 27 is my lucky number 👀.
How have you been doing? Are you thriving creatively and professionally, or are you feeling stuck? Leave a comment or respond to this email. I’d love to hear how you’ve been!
Sending love,
Tash
💌 ✍️
Cum again? 💦
Explore other stories about my grandmother, Patricia Weinberg, or learn about her life in this podcast episode.
Extra Treats 🍬
My Online Writing Course ✍️
“Awakening” is my first online Intimacy Writing course! It costs $30, and in it, you’ll get a 1:1 guided writing session with the poem, prompts, and writing accountability from me right there on the screen. Misseducated readers get 20% off with code INTIMACY at checkout!
My Novel 📖
If you’re more of a fictionista, check out my debut novel! It’s a spicy, coming-of-age story set in London in 2010. My teenage characters getting up to no good do not disappoint!
What I’m Currently Listening To 🎧
Yes, I’m feeling real spiritual and Tuluminati today, so this is what I’ve had on repeat 🧘♀️:
Keep in touch! 🥰
