Let me start by saying: thank you. If you sent me $12 thank you, and if you sent more thank you, and if you sent less, or nothing, thank you for not just unsubscribing in disgust at the ask. (I always worry everyone's gonna unsubscribe in disgust at the ask. Some people do!) I did not net enough money to pay my rent for 2019, but I did make enough to pay it for December, and anyone who's ever worried about making rent knows what a full body type of relief that is. 

Though to be honest, this year I actually made a lot more money than I ever have before. More than I made at my first job, or my second (which paid me less than the first). More than I made last year, which was my first full calendar year of freelancing. Almost twice as much as that, actually.

I can give you a number. I made $65,000 this year. Last year it was $41,000 and not a penny more. I ended out 2017 with $500 in savings; I had started with... I don't remember, but a lot more. $65,000 is making that savings account healthy again, and paying my parents back for the money they loaned me for surgery, and buying Hanukkah presents for my family without feeling frivolous and stupid.

$65,000 is insurance against the fact that I have no idea how much money I'll make next year, or the year after that. It's insurance against anything happening to my car, which I've had for 16 years, and my laptop, which I've had for 6, and my self, which isn't that old, but then, bodies are not very dependable things!!! 

I am keenly aware that many people live in this position-- the position of financial precarity, both short- and long-term, and that most of those people didn't choose it the way I did, or with the safety net that I have. I made a privileged choice to pursue work that I love at the cost of financial security.

So I'm not asking you to feel sorry for me, I swear. I'm just trying to explain why when people say nice things about my "career" to me at parties I balk and shy. It's the funhouse mirror effect of looking out through your own eyes all the time-- seeing the way the small checks try to add up, and don't and don't until you get a big one-- and then suddenly being reminded that no one else sees that, because how could they. And that there are a lot of people out there trying to do what I do with no guide, and no resources, because there's no career counseling for this strange made-up cobbled together thing I do for work.

So let's talk numbers! This year I published a lot less than last year-- only 30 pieces, as opposed to last year's (exhausting) 56. I still pitched a good amount-- 70-some emails to net those 27 yeses. I sold two books (last year: 0) and had a super-lucrative sponsored content gig that allowed me to worry less about the pitching. Plus, more editors came to me with ideas, saying, can you write this, instead of me having to say, may I write that. I also taught a bunch: two classes simultaneously for a while during the spring, but mostly only one at a time. I'll be teaching again starting in February, a class on how to pitch and write essays that get published online. You can be sure I will tell you about it again when sign ups are open.

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Variations on a theme: I wrote about how the cast of Vanderpump Rules makes money for The Goods! Every year when the show returns for a new season I worry that it won't be as good as previous seasons, and every year, my fears are assuaged within minutes. Jax bought James limited-edition Supreme underwear!! We live in blessed, blessed times.