Today and tomorrow are my last days on my day job. More importantly, they are my last days on any day job for a while. I anticipate writing full-time for - who knows - maybe six months, maybe a full year, maybe longer.
It will be the first time either Allan or I have been able to write full-time. Not because we were trying without success: it was never a goal. Neither of us ever pursued a staff job with a magazine or newspaper, and freelancing full-time wasn't realistic. We both have very specific and somewhat idiosyncratic writing goals. When those goals also pull in some income, all the better. When they don't, we write anyway.
Our ongoing goal - my goal, which I instilled in Allan - was to jockey our way into better and better day-jobs, decreasing the number of hours we had to spend working for money, and increasing the time we could spend writing or researching our own interests. We met this goal beautifully. For a long time our day jobs have been 24 hours per week, squeezed into two days. It's been brilliant, and I didn't think we'd get any better.
Suddenly (and it really was sudden) I find myself earning enough from writing that I can drop the day-job entirely. It's awesome. I am knocked out by the prospect. I know Allan is envious, and I actually feel a little guilty! (Sheesh. Ridiculous.)
It won't be forever. I get bored very easily. I need constant stimulation from my writing, and if it grows too easy, too routine, I'm off in search of another challenge. At some point I'll want to pursue some research or writing on my own, and I'll head to the temp agencies looking for work.
But for now, wow.