The Writer's Life That Lets You Show Up When It Counts

She cut the cord at her granddaughter's birth. She held her mother's hand at the end. Her writing career made both possible.

In a world of near-instant order delivery and robot-created companions, there are still things a paycheck can't buy…

Christiane Marshall knows this better than most. When her family needed her both in good and hard times, she was there. And her clients never knew the difference.

While it’s true that virtual work is common these days, this is about more than being able to do your job through a laptop. Really, it’s about being untethered to someone else’s idea of what your schedule and effort should look like.

Yet this kind of freedom remains a fantasy for a lot of would-be writers. And when important life events are happening, not being present becomes a major pain point.

I’m happy to say, it doesn’t have to be that way. If you’ve ever wondered whether the flexibility of a writing life is real or just good marketing copy, Christiane’s story answers that question.

To your writing freedom,

Mindy McHorse
Executive Editor, Barefoot Writer

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There for First and Final Breaths

By Christiane Marshall

Sometimes Glicken shows up in unexpected ways. It’s not just about beaches and bare feet, you know.

I learned this a few years back. I was on a roll with my writing and my life when my first grandchild was born. I had the opportunity to be present to hold my daughter’s hand, bring her cool cloths for her head, and encourage her during her two days of labor.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I heard that first staccato cry! I had the privilege to break into sobs right there in my daughter, Marlene’s, labor and delivery room.

Marlene’s husband was on a deployment and could not be there to cut the cord and greet his firstborn, though his commanding officer allowed him to be there by phone. It was a bittersweet moment as I felt the soft pulsating lifeline and cut through it, knowing he wanted to be the one to do this.

I had the honor and privilege of spending the next six months in sunny San Diego, helping Marlene with my precious granddaughter, Jazlyn Rose. Marlene was still active-duty Navy herself and it would have been a serious hardship for her had I not been able to do this.

I organized my writing life around Marlene’s and Jazlyn’s schedules. I spoke to clients on the phone and wrote copy, articles, and blogs from Marlene’s kitchen table. Each time I flew home to Ohio for my monthly visits, I accessed the Internet from 49,000 feet in the air to do my research and stay in touch with editors and clients.

It was not an easy moment the day I tore myself away to go back to Ohio when my son-in-law returned — although I rejoiced knowing he would finally be able to enjoy being a daddy (and not just through FaceTime)!

Later that year, my mother called and said she was in excruciating pain. She has never been a complainer so I knew it had to be bad. I prepared for the long drive to Connecticut, packing my laptop and notes for my newest project.

After the definitive diagnosis of terminal cancer and my mother’s decision to try radiation and stay in a rehab center, I moved into her room to help and be a support. I wrote copy right there in that room, using the clean, unused commode as a desk.

I was there to get her a glass of ice water, to keep her from falling, to watch TV with her, to fetch a nurse, open the window for her, hand her the phone …

Six weeks later, she was gone.

If I had a traditional job, I would have had to take time off without pay — or just quit my job entirely — to be there for my daughter, and then for my mother.

But I was able to be there at the last breath of a loved one, and the first breath of a new life. Priceless.