Just so you all know, I had to resist the urge to just reprint Meridith Brooks’ Bitch lyrics on this page and call it a day. I didn’t want you all to think that I was living in the ’90s though. I’m firmly living in the ’70s or ’80s, if anything. Say no to leggings with stirrups, oversized t-shirts, and flannel.

This is where I grew up.

So Who Am I?

Let me start by saying that I am, first and foremost, a writer. I don’t remember not being a writer. Before I could actually spell words, I can remember telling stories to my dolls and coming up with fantastic “let’s pretend” stories to play out with my friends. I used to make “books” from construction paper when I was in elementary school, to give as gifts, and I was reading chapter books by the time I hit first grade. So, I’m Allison Boyer, and I’m a writer. That’s my identity before anything else.

Writing is also my job.

The College Years

I went to college in Elizabethtown, Pennsylvania (no, that’s not where that stupid Orlando Bloom movie takes place), and in three and a half years, I had a degree in English, with a concentration in professional writing. This is where things get interesting. See, during college, I worked in my school’s development office, doing alumni giving research. I like to say that I was a professional stalker, because my job mostly entailed looking up personal information about people who might give money to the college. Yes, they actually do that and yes, it is as creepy as it sounds. Which is perhaps why I absolutely loved my job.

But part of me died inside a little every morning when that alarm went off. I hated having to wake up for work, even though I enjoyed the tasks once I got there. I didn’t like having to report to someone, or do things her way when I could see a more efficient way to get the same thing done. Luckily, my boss was amazing, and she loved the fact that I was so organized and interested in making the office run more smoothly. It was also a new position, so I kind of forged into unknown territory. So, I’m not saying that my job wasn’t rewarding. It was. At the end of the day, though, I wasn’t getting anything accomplished for me. It was just a job.

Graduation and Stumbling into Freelancing

So, with graduation looming, I started looking for jobs during my last semester in school. Somewhere along the way, I stumbled upon a freelance writing job. This company was actually willing to pay me to write articles from my dorm room. CHA-CHING. Ok, not really. The pay was crap. But I could set my own hours, work in my sweats, and make a little money for beer. Sign me up.

I certainly didn’t consider this a career path, though. It was just money to support my college spending habits. Hell, I didn’t even realize that I was completely underselling myself. I was happy to write 10 articles for $3 each, collect my $30, and buy a new top for the party on Saturday night or chip in for pizza with my roommates.

This was me at the time. At this point, I was still pretty laid back about planning for the future. That was going to change soon.

So picture it: there I am, mid-October-ish, about to graduate, and I don’t have a job lined up. It wasn’t that I wasn’t a good candidate…I’m awesome. I just wasn’t really looking yet. At least, that’s what I tell myself. The truth is that it depressed me a little, because I knew how working in the office full-time over the summer made me want to kick kittens. A job opening actually came up in the office, under a difference boss, and although they didn’t flat out offer it to me, they did ask me to apply (I declined because I didn’t want to live in that area). In the end, I went on one job interview, and a few days afterward, the hiring manager called me back, asking me to come in for a full-staff interview. It was between me and one other girl.

I Call this Part of the Story “Panicking”

Honestly, I think I could have smoked her. The other girl from the job interview, I mean. I was more than qualified, and one of my references (my boss at my college job) actually knew the guy who was doing the hiring personally. Plus, I’m really good at interviews. I definitely could have charmed them into hiring me.

We set up a date and time for the second interview…and then I panicked. I saw my life settling into this boring, unhappy routine. Maybe it was because all of my friends were still drinking every night instead of worrying about renting their first apartment, since they still had an extra semester before graduation (I graduated early). Maybe it was because I couldn’t imagine a world where I wasn’t hungover for work in the morning at least once or twice a week. Maybe I’m just prone to panicking. I’m not sure, but the next morning, I called him back and said that I wasn’t interested in the position anymore.

This is my "stupid face", just to reiterate how I felt about this decision.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. That’s what it felt like, anyway.

But in reality, it was by far the best thing I could have ever done. I’m awesome when I don’t even realize I’m being awesome.

So anyway, I realized that I had two choices: do this stupid interview thing all over again with another company or try to find something different. I remember there was a moment where I was sitting in my tiny college apartment bedroom, looking at some generic job search website, and I though, “What the hell do I even type in the search bar?” I had no clue what I wanted.

I made a list, because I’m the queen of lists, of all the things I wanted. Like, what would the qualities of my DREAM JOB be? Making my own schedule or working evenings/nights. Being able to work without much supervision. Some kind of creative aspect.

Dude. I had all that in my writing job. Could I possibly turn this crap into a career? I sat down and crunched some numbers in a very official type of way. Sure, I could do it. So I stopped looking for a “real job.” I was going to be a freelance writer. I closed my eyes and jumped.

Reality Check

I didn’t know it at the time, but the numbers I figured in my head were drastically off. I didn’t take into account taxes, the higher cost of heating in the winter, renter’s insurance, health insurance, etc. And did you know that in the “real world” you have to actually pay for entertainment? There’s no more free college-organized dances and comedians. What the hell. You can also no longer charge coffee to your college account, which looks like school supplies when your parents pay the bill every semester. You actually get a credit card bill that you have to pay yourself. Double what the hell.

But I’m still here. I’m still freelancing. I graduated in December 2006, and I jumped in with both feet and my eyes closed, not even sure if I could tread water, let alone swim.

Godiva sez: "Paying for an entire beach vacation on credit is a bad idea, especially when you haven't yet paid your rent for the month."

I did a lot of sinking along the way. I made major mistakes, like the time I lost $5000 on a deal because I didn’t have a contract or the time I decided to put an entire beach vacation on my credit card. I overpaid for a shitty first apartment and I dated some really lousy people. Oh, and there’s the time I did 5+ shots of licorice vodka after drinking beer all night. See, now those were stupid decisions.

Following your heart and soul to become a writer, even though it doesn’t seem financially possible? That is not stupid. If you’re thinking about quitting a job you hate to look for a job you love, you are doing a brave thing, right now, but it is also an extremely smart thing. Because if you aren’t happy, life isn’t really worth living. I love tired cliches almost as much as I love quoting sappy movie lines. Freelance writing had me at hello.

My Life Today

Like I said, the story I told you happened in 2006 and the beginning of 2007. Obviously, a lot has happened in my life since then. I’ve learned a lot about being a freelancer and even more about being happy, which is why I decided to create this website, and I’ve grown a lot as a person. How can you not in three+ years?

Who I am today? I’m less stressed than I used to be, at least about work. I’m realizing that what I love today is probably not going to be what I love forever. I’m trying new things instead of clinging to what I know. I’m actually starting to believe, at least a little, all that crap about me being awesome.

I live in Northeastern Pennsylvania. Have you seen the television show The Office? Yeah, I live there, but with fewer Michael Scott shenanigans. I’m owned by the fattest, most lovably bitchy black cat in the world, Godiva (see above). I read a lot. I play video games. I scream when watching college football. I drink a lot of wine. I’m saving up for a down payment on a home of my own, hopefully a place in the mountains. I try to cook at least three or four times a week and go running just as often. I try to write fiction when I have free time, and I’m a pro at starting novels that never get finished. Like most people my age, I’m looking for that special someone and haven’t quiet found him yet, but am enjoying the search. Unlike most people my age, I very rarely have to set my alarm clock, but I do have to remind myself to stop working and enjoy a few hours away from my computer every day.

Me today. My baby sister took and developed this picture. She's amazing, and I guess now that she's in college, I should stop referring to her as my "baby" sister. You people should all hire her for photography and graphic design work.

And life goes on. I’m still learning a lot about this business every single day, and from the bottom of my heart, I want to thank you for letting me share it with you.

If there’s anything else you’d like to know about me, feel free to leave a comment. I’m more than happy to answer your questions.

P.S. You can also find me fairly active as the blogger for BlogWorld Expo and as a founding member of Binge Gamer, a now-defunct video game website. Also, you should hire me. I’d love to speak at your school or for your group, I offer consulting for bloggers and writers, and I’m pretty much the most awesome freelancer you could ever hope to find for your writing project. Cross my heart.