Who am I?

How existential of me to ask that.  And really, if I were philosophizing on my true meaning - my true reason for existence - then I think it would take up an entire book and not a blog entry.

No, the question is much simpler than that.

One of the ways I know to make money when I depart for my "epic journey of lateness" and explore the US in a motorhome (est.2015) is to write.  Yay! Writing.

Easy enough.

But how do you make money at it?  I don't mean $25 here and there, I mean $1000/month. Or more.  Well, I understand I need to establish myself as a writer in a freelance world.  I need to have stories and an angle and a friend in the publishing business.

Crap.

I actually need to work at this.

So where to start?  What do I know?  Always write about what you know.  Easy.

But what do I know?  Really know?

And that's where the problem seems to exist for me.

Here's what I know...REALLY know:
How to persevere
How to raise a child
How to be a single mom
How to live (or not live) with someone who has a terrible addiction
How to juggle life - not always successfully
I know what it's like to be withdrawn, what it's like to hide.  I know what it's like to pretend you are someone else.
I know the experience of acting - from a chorus role to the lead in a musical - and everything behind the scenes.
How to have a successful marriage
How to have a successful and angst-free divorce
How to be honest

But beyond that - I'm not an expert in anything.  I have my passions, but I don't consider myself to be an expert in any field.  I can tell stories and have a sardonic wit.  I can see the humor in just about everything.  I am the first to laugh at myself.  And I find myself a little afraid of everything around me.

Insecurity is a bitch.  If I were to look at myself on paper, without knowing it was me, I would be mightily impress with the strength of that woman.  But knowing it's me - I just know that I did what every other person in this world does - I put one foot in front of the other and move forward.  Sometimes through mud or windstorms, or blizzards, or floods.  Sometimes through the most beautiful of sunny days.

I am no different than anyone else.

Except I have a way to find my voice and the voice of others.  I have the talent to put that voice out there and allow my experiences to be heard.

Is that voice publishable?

Is there anything I can say that hasn't already been said? That someone wants to hear?

I have no idea.

And I don't think I will really ever know the answer to that unless I start to write from the heart.  Not a blog - but something more marketable. An article. An opinion column. Something to sell to a small paper or two or twenty or more.

Maybe a weekly piece would be enough to carry me forward as a writer and as a way to finance my adventure through space.  Maybe those stories on the road will become a future book (yes! even with pictures!), or at the very least, a small voice heard by a few souls who still read.

I understand that today is the day I need to figure it all out.  I can't wait until I'm on the road to test the waters.  The time is now...

The first step is always the most frightening. From my experience, the next few steps after that aren't so easy either...

What do I want to do with my life?

In ten months, I will join the ranks of empty nesters.  As a single mom, it means something a little different for me when compared to couples or parents of multiple children.

Currently, in my world, there are two of us.  We travel as a pair. We laugh until we cry at things only the two of us may find funny.  We know each other better than a lot of couples.  But, in 10 months, we will split as we have always meant to.  Off he will go to become the man he is meant to be.

And I will start my own new adventure.

This one is for me.  Not for my parents. Not for my family. Not for my fiance/husband. Not for my son. Me. This time it is all about me.

What the hell do I do?

How many other people have experienced this?

Hundreds of thousands I expect.

I've promised my son I would "get a life" and not wallow in missing him...or become the hermit I'm so good at.  So I've been searching my brain for what I really have always wanted to do - and then figure out how to do it.

The answer came to me when I stumbled onto a auction show.  Someone was trying to auction of their old AirStream trailer.  It was from the 1970's and he wanted $10,000 for it. AirStreams are cool. Very cool.

I want one.

Wait a minute.

I really do want one.

How cool would it be to travel around the US? Go anywhere you want whenever you want? Drive your own home.

Right.  People with huge retirements do that.  Couples. People with more money than reasonable do that.

And then I thought to look into it.

The average full-time RV-er spends approximately $25,000 a year...some more, some less.  And you can join groups.  There are companies that will hire you seasonally - they will actually hire work-campers.

Okay...that would help.  But I'm also a writer. It's what I do and what I'm good at. So...why can't I find a job that allows me to telecommute from the road? Seriously?  Why not?  It's 2011 - the age of technology and instant communication.  With a cell phone, a computer and wifi (or hell, an aircard) I could be in immediate contact with anyone.

I could also write travel columns.  Or blogs. I'm pretty damned good with a camera too - so I would be able to submit pictures to go with the articles.

Dear God I could freelance.

I wonder...is it really possible?  How long would it take to establish myself and guarantee and income of $20 - $30K a year in a combination of freelancing and working various jobs around the nation?  I couldn't expect much more than minimum to $10/hour ... but that would at least cover gas & food.

I would have to downsize.  Severely.  But I live in an apartment right now ... and have started to go through the remaining boxes in my garage.  I'm already getting rid of stuff. So why not just get rid of more?  Why not just keep stuff in storage?  I don't have that much anyway.  Very little furniture that I'm attached to.  Like 5 pieces and my bed. They rest can go away. My art is a different story.  I'm actually attached to 6 pieces and I'm not sure they would fit in an RV.

Then there's the idea of an RV.  The little research I've done tells me I need a class C no bigger than 27 feet. I'll be able to tow my car behind it.  I like my car and it would be the perfect vehicle for travel.

So all I need to do is figure out how to afford an RV and finance my life on the road.

I can have a life.

I will become Terri the Nomad.

I may actually manage it by the time I'm 55.  That's 2015.

This may really be doable.

And that makes me happy.