Money Money Money

Right now, I am a guinea pig for the biggest reason why people don't live their dreams. My bank account has $267 in it. Well, it did last week. I've been avoiding it lately.

I'm not destitute – I'm waiting on payment for a project I did at the beginning of the summer. Only the more they take their sweet time paying me, the more that cheque will be gone before it arrives.

It's a Catch-22. I'm running out of dough, but taking copywriting work is a trap. Sure, the money's good, but it steals focus (and precious time) from my creative work. And the more I rely on copywriting to support me, the less faith I put in my creative work. Which is not where I'm at right now. I'm in a 'take a risk and commit to my art' place. Not a 'contribute regularly to my RSP' place.

My mantra lately has been: "The universe supports me in my creative work." Which is pretty much the opposite of most people's affirmations when it comes to dreams. "I can't afford it" is a popular one. "You can't make money at it" is another, usually when one's dreams have an artistic bent.

Right this minute, I can't afford Paris. But that is the stupidest, most pathetic reason in the world not to go. Imagine if I wrote that in this blog. Ack! You would lynch me. Money is the most tired excuse in the book for putting off your dreams.

The other day, for my book, I wrote the Top Ten ways to fund your dream. They weren't exactly ground-breaking ideas – grants, extra projects, not going to restaurants for awhile – but it got me thinking creatively about money. Later, in the shower (where ideas live), a whole bunch of other ideas came pouring out. Everything from a donation campaign to pre-selling the book before it's even published.

Dana suggested I give myself an advance like I'd receive from a publisher. I've got a line of credit, which they gave me when I bought my condo (hoping I'd rack up more debt), but I've never really used it. If I gave myself a $5,000 advance, I could make that last for a couple months at least.

But it wouldn't get me back to Paris. Decision Day is looming people. Lest we forget.

Yesterday in the shower (where ideas live), I did the math on what I'd need to live in Paris for six months. It was a pretty rough budget, but life in Paris – despite the glamour of the place – is fairly simple. Basically just flight, rent, food and Metro. The number I came up with was $15,000.

As I drove to meet my girlfriends, I repeated "I have $15,000 or more for my journey to Paris" over and over in my head. I parked, walked towards Prince's Island Park and as I was crossing the footbridge (where ideas live), I had a thought. Sell my car.

I could easily get $15k for it. I wouldn't be driving it for six months anyway. And a car is a luxury item I would easily, happily give up. I was carless for two years before buying my Subaru and felt a kind of pride about that. I'll ride my bike and get fit again. Besides, my folks are leaving for Australia in September, leaving their Honda behind.

So, I put the intention out into the universe and in less than half an hour, I had a simple solution that delivered the exact amount I require. Sometimes this stuff is scary good.