WHAT IF WE NEVER GET THE LIFE WE WANT?

Back in January, my husband and I had a difficult conversation. We were sitting in my dad’s house in New York, on the same couch where my mother had lost control of her body just a few months before. Perhaps it was this recent loss of my mom that emboldened me to be so direct. John and I were discussing the potential end of our relationship, not skirting around it but looking the possibility right in the face, and yet I felt eerily calm. My life had already turned upside down once. I was no longer attached to any form of my reality. If my husband needed to leave me, I would understand.

What had gotten us to this moment was both complicated and frustratingly simple. My husband had given up his first career as an undercover CIA officer* a decade ago to move to Los Angeles and become a screenwriter. Since making that decision, he had thrown himself fully into the identity of being a writer. Making it in Hollywood quickly became more important to him than getting married or having a family. It was his passion, his calling. And he got painfully close to living his dream more than once. But since May of last year, when Netflix canceled the show he had been developing since we met, the opportunities had dried up. The industry was constricting, and he didn’t have a long enough track record to assume there would ever be more work in a field that is primarily based on luck, privilege and who you know.

As the sole breadwinner, I found myself caught in an uncomfortable place. I wasn’t making enough to support both of us long term, especially if we wanted to have a kid. For months, I alternated between feeling resentful that he couldn’t move on from writing and get another job and feeling ashamed that I would ever want that for someone I loved. It would be one thing to have that harsh expectation if I wasn’t also in a creative field. But how could I ask him to give up writing when I still got to do it? I ultimately decided that I couldn’t, which is what led us to that confrontation of the couch.

I told John that if he still valued being a writer above everything else in his life, including our marriage and the possibility of a baby, that was okay. I would be supportive of him and didn’t want to get in the way of the one life he craved. But we couldn’t be married anymore. Marriage, for all its idealism, is also a business partnership. And I couldn’t be in the business of life with someone who was prioritizing a creative goal above our financial wellbeing. Making a living as a writer is fraught, which is why I have diversified in every way I can think of. My income comes from multiple sources including Substack, book deals, multiple podcasts and my relationship coaching business. I always assume my most recent writing deal will be my last one and try to plan accordingly. Juggling all this, along with the disappointment of never being as successful or secure as I want to be, is exhausting. I knew I didn’t have it in me to also take on the risk that John might not never have paid work if he continued to prioritize screenwriting.

My desire for John to find another, more stable path has nothing to do with his talent. Hollywood is a fickle beast where decisions are made based on the whims of one random executive and the bizarre algorithmic findings of streaming services. Despite having sold four TV shows in my twenties, I haven’t been able to get a paid screenwriting job in years. I currently live in this in between where I haven’t had to completely abandon my creative aspirations, but I have had to make significant adjustments. My favorite ways to spend my time are acting, performing standup, directing and writing scripts. I currently do none of those things. Instead, I write prose and see clients. I prep podcasts and try to figure out if what I have now is enough or if I will always ache to do more. I understand what I am asking John to give up, at least in the short term, because I want it just as badly as him.

As you might have guessed given that we are still married and expecting a baby, John decided not to leave me to pursue being a full-time writer at all costs. I suspect that sometime in the last few years, his priorities shifted—even if he didn’t notice it happening. While moving away from screenwriting continues to be painful and something he still finds too difficult to talk about, he has thrown himself full force into a new direction where he is excelling. This June he will finish up a Master’s in National Security Policy and in the fall, he will start an MPhil program where he will simultaneously work as a researcher. It is an academically rigorous environment that operates completely differently than the entertainment industry, which means he is finally getting the recognition and success he deserves. And yet…it’s not his dream.

As much as some people might just write to write, and whether they make a career of it is simply a bonus, John and I aren’t wired that way. Our lives would be much easier if we were. Because that’s the thing about writing—you can always do it. John can keep writing scripts while he pursues this new career. But there is more to our hunger that simply getting words on the page. There is a desire for other people to read and/or hear those words. To get to colalborate with other people to bring our stories to life. I wish the mere act of writing was enough to feel satisfied. Then the life we each want would be easily accessed with just a keyboard. All our dreams would already be achieved.

Instead, we are left to grabble with the disconnect between what we want and whether we will ever get it. There is the possibility that after my next romance novel comes out, I never sell another writing project again and I will find myself in the same place John found himself last year. Will I be able to shift peacefully into full-time coaching or will I thrash and scream, enraged that I never got my own TV show? My guess is that it will depend on the day.

It is not lost on me that most of us don’t get exactly what we want in life, and we have to figure out how to not just make do but appreciate the life we are living. To accomplish this effectively requires not just a level of flexibility but often a shift in identity. Who will I be if one day I am no longer a professional writer? If I have to lay my ambitious dreams to rest to not feel like a failure every moment of every day? I might never have to confront that version of me. But sometimes I wonder if she is happier.

xoxo,

Allison

*Yes, John used to be a spy. WILD, I know. To learn more about this, him and our marriage you can check our new podcast: Starter Marriage. It’s not a scripted Netflix show, but is very exciting!

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