I write. I'm not an author - yet. But I write, and I hang with writers.
A frequent topic of discussion amongst us writers is how it might be possible to go full-time. A lot of that has to do with minimizing outgoing expenses. The discussion the past year and more has become more practical because of the economy, with some of us "giving up" our day jobs before we might have wished.
The Tiny Home movement has become a loving topic of conversation. My favorites are the homes from the Tumbleweed Tiny House Company.
I like to daydream about living in a tiny home. Alas, I have people and things I am not willing to jettison just so I can live in a 100 square foot house in the woods powered by solar and wind energy.
Actually, my three-story townhome is downright itty compared to what many of my friends and colleagues own. But itty can be more than enough space if we get rid of all the extra stuff.
I've often joked that I want to die penniless (the first one to get rid of all their pennies wins). It's not that I actually want to die without anything to leave to my family and causes, just a desire to reduce the jangling change in my pockets.
It isn't a joke, though, if I die and leave a bunch of junk for my heirs to deal with. I want the precious to be obvious and catalogued and easy to handle, with the non-precious easy to dispose of, if there's any at all.
If my junk would be a burden for my heirs after I die, why shouldn't I recognize what a burden it is for us while I'm still alive?
And so I dream about the life I could lead if I had only that which would fit in a tiny home (and the tiny housekeeping duties that go with it). Bit by bit I organize and box and discard the thousands of pounds of stuff that prevent us from living that simpler life, the tons of meaningless, demanding stuff that will steal the nights and weekends we could spend enjoying the rest of our lives together.
Hear, hear!
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