Almost five years ago I attended the Portland Book Festival in downtown Portland, Oregon. On the balcony of a church across from the art museum, I watched as Sandra Cisneros, true writing icon and the author of one of my favorite story collections, was answering raised hands in the audience. One high school student on a field trip with their class asked Cisneros for her advice to young writers.

Find the right day job, she said. Any day job that keeps you at least somewhat financially stable, but isn’t so taxing that you’re too tired or stressed to write.

At the time I was finishing my undergrad degree and working as a barista part-time for a corporate bakery on weekends. It was a high stress environment but because the work paid well enough and included benefits (rare in the service industry) I wound up staying, leaving and returning to that job multiple times over the course of four years.

I thought about applying to a bookstore (always a dream), but it would have meant a huge pay cut. I could have tried waitressing, but I didn’t think I had the personality to work that close to customers. At least in making coffee, I had some (albeit limited) degree of separation. I felt like I would never be able to call myself a writer (even though I was, thanks imposter syndrome) and internalize it.

I can happily say I have finally found my perfect barista job and I finished my degree. Needless to say, it took a huge shift in my daily perspective for me to fully hear Cisneros’ advice; I could find the new job that was less mentally taxing, but it was a wholly different step to not resent the work if I still struggled to manage my time and create the space for writing I craved.

It’s easy to fall into the trap of resenting work for not being what we want it to be: hours and hours I could spend working on something creative. Instead, I’m filling mugs, toasting toast. But hours and hours of creative work will not pay my rent. Resenting my job for not being writing was never a sustainable mindset, for obvious reasons, but again when you have the drive it’s hard not to get stuck in this mental rut.

All along I’ve known I’m lucky to work with so many creative people; writers, musicians, poets or visual artists, photographers, ceramicists, dancers. There’s a reason that so many creatives stay in industry jobs. Even Margaret Atwood and Octavia Butler worked industry jobs from barista-ing to inspecting potato chips while writing the novels that made them household names. There is no one true path to success. Elizabeth Gilbert traveled the country waitressing instead of getting an MFA. Cheryl Strayed, author of Wild, also waitressed and wrote in her off time. The idea that you need to be writing constantly and fully immersed in some literary or writing related job in order to be successful is unrealistic and untrue.

Writers make the day job work for our creativity, not against it. A day job that works for our creative endeavors means keeping us financially afloat and healthy. I talk to people all day. My coworkers are sharing creative projects and life stories, and so are the customers. It’s astounding what near-strangers will share with you when you make their coffee: someone recently told me they had just spent their weekend unpacking, only to discover letters from their ex-wife, letters now 20 years old, wrapped up in a shoebox. I couldn’t help but wonder what those letters would reveal to this person about their relationship when they finally decided to open the envelopes. As I wash crusty forks and cream-stained spoons, I’m thinking about the kinds of things lovers say to each other in letters versus real life conversations. I’m thinking about my characters. All these little fragments contribute to the creative process.

I think this is what Cisneros was getting at: both giving ourselves space to do the work, and allowing the hard boundary between work and creative life to slip away. Of course, customer service isn’t for everyone and I’m privileged to have nearly a decade in coffee experience to lean on.

In an attempt to assuage the undeserved shame I felt for “not using my degree” I took a publicity internship for six months and discovered my strong distaste for sitting at computers. (Sending emails, event planning, etc.) It drained me to the point where I couldn’t write later in the day because I couldn’t bear the idea of sitting at a screen any longer.

Some people can write for a living and then go home and write more and even say that editing or writing at work fuels their own creative projects. To writers like Anne Patchett, props. I lack this kind of stamina. I need a contrast; but I had to try something else like a PR gig, to put my day job into perspective. I also love working in coffee. It’s hard to imagine working somewhere without free coffee, and the kind of camaraderie and intimacy formed that comes with working in customer service in a group of people I may not have met otherwise. Also, I love coffee.

For years I carried the idea that if I didn’t write every day, then I wasn’t a real writer and I was never going to “be successful.” It’s a distracting idea but one I hear writers complain about constantly. I just can't find a routine. Every week I work a different combination of opening and closing shifts, but I’m privileged in that I always have the same two days off. This is the only stability I have to work with, and I rely on that consistency to feel like I have the semblance of a coveted “writer’s routine.” As it turns out, a “writing routine” can look random or scattered as long as it keeps us writing. Accepting that a traditional routine won’t be sustainable unless my job changed relieved a lot of the pressure I felt to write every day.

Finding the job that pays the bills and isn’t high stress is not easy. It took years of moving around, of chance and timing, to find the one I have now. It’s out there. If you find that you don’t have the energy to write because of work, try something else. Jeffrey Silverstein created this lovely guide for creative/day job balance. One of the first steps is asking ourselves what the perfect day job really looks like, what work allows us to feel creative? What work subtracts from our ability to feel creative?

Cisneros definitely had it right.

The right day job means everything. I look at my life as a writer’s life, who is also a barista. It doesn’t have to be either/or.

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