what to do with the rest of your life…

For the past eleven years, I’ve worked at four corporations and two start-ups. Having sold myself on an image of a life, I graduated with a degree in finance & marketing to work for two investment banks. After three years of sobbing in the bathroom stall in the mornings, running projections in the afternoon and drinking my way through the evening, I decided that in order to switch careers, I would have to make my own experience. In 1999, I owned and operated an LLC, where I sold designer clothing & accessories on the web. I built the e-commerce site, became an authorized credit card vendor, attended Fashion Week shows, marketed my products and brand via ebay and other outlets, and managed all the fulfillment from my father’s Long Island home. From concept to implementation and management, I had successfully launched my own company. But I was young, feisty, and longed to be an office clamoring with conversation and mouse-clicking. So I abandoned shop when I received an offer to work at a luxury goods dot.com.

And then, as all dot.coms were wont to do – the days of fancy-free catered lunches and expensed town cars came to a close, and in 2001, I found myself unemployed. I had been interning for 30 hours a week since my sophomore year, so I never knew what it was like to not work. There was a constant feeling of malaise, disquiet. I longed for stability. And in the summer of 2001, I took a project manager job at a cable giant. I met a man (my boss) who would become my mentor, I learned how to be a professional, and I had found a job that I loved – although the industry left much to be desired.

Then there was the book deal in 2005, and you know how that story goes. You only need to turn your head slightly to the right to see the finished product.

So I resigned because I was going to be an author! a writer! I would possibly teach! Freelance! But a compartmentalized day without structure or people, the constant fear of pitching and rejection, gave me vertigo. Another image of a life projected where the reality was not what I had envisioned. I learned that while I love writing, that is just one part of who I am. And I’m starting to realize that as I move from job to job, I’m getting closer to the thing – yet undefined – the career, that I would fall in love with. But not yet.

In 2006, I took an online marketing job at a major publishing house. I thought I was finally settled because I loved books, I knew the online space, and how could I not revel in the fusion of the two. However, as the years passed, I came to understand that the business of writing was killing my love of writing. My whole world was filled with books, gossip, trades, blogs, one kind of people. Balance was non-existent. There was literally no room to breathe. I read less. I became cynical. I believed in the books less. I felt smothered by corporate directives which I knew were wholly misguided. But how do you question senior management? A management that doesn’t want to be questioned. And what began as a career where I would concept, develop, and implement ideas (regardless of ROI, unique visitors and cost/benefit analysis), I soon evolved into a paper pusher. A nodder. A Felicia play nice with the team. At 22, I cried in a Morgan Stanley bathroom stall. At 32, I was crying in my office.

And then a flicker. Nothing larger than a teardrop. I met two women with whom I bonded. Two women with credentials, financing, contacts, smarts, experience and a vision. And suddenly, for the first time in years, I felt inspired. It was as if I was living in a house with no power and suddenly bulbs were flickering and flashing, and all the lights started to turn on. They gave me a life-changing opportunity. I would write the screenplay adaptation of my memoir, I would collaborate with the director, I would be an on-set fixture, and I would have a say in the casting of the film version of my life.

WHAT?!

I went through the motions of all this rather quietly. I signed contracts. I pumped an occasional fist in the air. I squealed a little. But it hadn’t hit me. The largeness of it. The fact that after many dark, difficult years – years where I felt lost and confused and alone – my life was slowly coming into focus. I had a strong, loving group of friends. I stood up for myself and my ideas at work. I refused to be bullied. I refused to play nice for the sake of playing nice. I was sober (I am sober! For almost two years!). I reconciled with old friends. I crept out of debt. I discovered that just because I’m an “artist,” that doesn’t mean I don’t have an affection for business, or adoring beautiful clothes. I realized that I was so fixated on creating an image for myself of what I should be that I ignored all the things that make me, well, me. Yes, I read the New Yorker and Granta, but I also devour InStyle and Harper’s Bazaar magazines. Yes, I read Tim O’Brien and Nabokov, but I’ll also read the Tori Spelling memoir. I don’t believe in excess, but I believe in carrying 2-3 nice handbags.

In short, I found myself. And I resigned from my publishing job, finished a draft of my screenplay, and I haven’t looked back. And yesterday, I settled on a career after a good friend asked me over dinner: “So, what’s next?”

Here’s what I know: I can’t work full-time at a corporation or I’ll start butchering people at an American Psycho rate (kidding!). I can’t only work in book publishing because I’ll suffer the balance issue. But – I love project management, I love the online space, I love project diversity, I love marketing, and I know the web. And so there was this: a project manager consultant. From concept to development to marketing and support, I will guide web start-ups through all phases of the launch process (as well as ad-hoc post-launch projects). I will project manage some projects and provide online marketing support for other. Not only will I have a sense of accountability and ownership, I’ll have the ability to pick my own projects and work and dedicate myself to them. None of this new book every six weeks cycle.

So I told my friend about my idea and she cheered. Why not try it? Who cares if it doesn’t work out? Because isn’t it a sad, sad thing to always wonder What if?

If you’re interested in chatting with me about a potential project, feel free to email me at felicia -at- feliciasullivan -dot- com. Serious inquires only, pls.

This entry was posted on Friday, December 5th, 2008 at 9:34 am and is filed under daily murmurs. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.