Recently, I was at FinCon, the personal finance conference where you might hear someone ask, “What’s your salary?” as often as you might hear, “How are you?”
People talk about money here, and it’s vulnerable. I found myself being a bit more vulnerable and real this year, and I think it has everything to do with having taught the last iteration of the personal essay class Posing Naked on the Page.
So does my latest essay, which I don’t think I would have published without having read my students’ work over the last three months.
Every week, these writers brought in stories that shined a light on my own shadows, aspects of myself I hadn’t thought I would bring into the light.
Perfect timing money-wise, this essay examines how I underestimated the difficulty of making less money than my friends.
Money is an uncomfortable topic for many of us, and though my first viral essay was about money, it still twists my stomach to openly share my thoughts that combine that feeling of “not good enough” with finances.
Having an intimate community of writers to work with in Posing Naked on the Page helped me push through my discomfort and dive even deeper.
My essay, “I Hate Making Less Money Than My Friends,” found a home at Salon, and I am so grateful that I decided to tell this story.
The essay also talks about my discomfort around being a businesswoman who’s also a writer. But in our last meeting, my latest coaching student said she was so glad she signed up. “It was totally worth the investment.”
I see the impact I make on my students, and this is how I support myself as an artist, so I’m trying not to be so shy about it: I am a kick-ass writing coach.
If you’re ready to dig further into your vulnerability and expand your craft, I invite you to sign up for The Finishing School for Writers. My coaching program has three tiers, so finding your perfect fit is easy.
I’ll help you dive into your vulnerability while providing ample opportunities for you to connect with other writers. With a community of support, courage is a lot easier to come by.
May you bravely share your story,
Paulette
