• An extended family, most of whom live close by. They’re my best friends, (and I don’t have to travel on holidays).
• A part-time job and 2 steady freelance clients. No immediate money worries.
• The life circumstances that allow me write novels. Because telling stories makes me happier than anything else I do.

• Clean running water, central heat, and plenty of food. It’s too easy to forget that these basics are privileges and not everyone has them.
• Good health. (Genetic luck of the draw)
• Heroes: Police officers, firefighters, military personnel, and medical aid workers who are willing to risk their own lives for others, including me.
• A husband who makes me laugh (and occasionally sings to me)
• A small pool in which to exercise everyday (without injuring myself)
• Dozens of wonderful friends both in person and online. (They make such a huge difference in the quality of my life.)
• TIVO (Without it, I could never watch television.)

What are you grateful for at this point in your life?

In early February I started a job at the Register-Guard, our local newspaper. I work 19 hours a week with no benefits, and I have one responsibility: write copy. It’s perfect (except for no health insurance). I work three days a week and write chunks of my novel every morning before going in. I supplement this income with freelance editing and manuscript evaluations.

Three weeks after I started, a full-time job opened in my department (special publications). Of course, I applied for it. In this economy, it makes sense to seize an opportunity for a nice steady paycheck, plus health insurance. Part of me really wanted the job too. I thought it would be a nice change of pace to concentrate my money-making energy into one place. As a freelancer, I’m scattered in many directions at once, and it gets a little crazy. I also wanted the health insurance and the security. Not that anyone working at a newspaper has job security.

But I didn’t get it. And when my boss told me I had not been chosen, I have to be honest and admit that my first physical and emotional reaction was relief. It would have meant a major lifestyle change. It would have meant that writing novels was no longer my primary focus. The job would have come with a lot of responsibility. It’s not the kind of position you can walk away from at the end of the day and forget about. My husband thinks it would have made me unhappy.

I see this as a sign from the universe that I need to keep novel writing as the focus of my life. It’s scary and exciting and insecure. But I’m wrapping up edits on the third Detective Jackson story this week. Early readers love it. By Friday the manuscript will be in the mail to an editor at a major publishing house, who is waiting to read it.

Everyone comes to these forks in the road. I’m glad I got pushed in the right direction. Have you an experience like this? What helped you decide which path to take?