Associated Press – Write on the World

One of the underrated freedoms of being an independent writer is that no one is standing over your shoulder enforcing a style guide. You don’t have to follow a publisher’s house rules or argue with an editor about commas or capitalization conventions. You get to decide what your writing looks like. That freedom is also where things can quietly get messy.

Square graphic about choosing a writing style guide for independent writers, showing a notebook, pen, coffee, and desk setup alongside text about sentence case, the Oxford comma, and formatting book titles, emphasizing consistency and personal style choices in writing. — Choosing a writing style guide for independent writers: a reminder that consistency matters more than rigid rules, and every writer gets to define their own system.

Once you’re writing novels, blog posts, website copy, newsletters, and maybe even social media captions, consistency starts to matter more than most people expect. Readers notice it when formatting shifts. Search engines don’t care, but your credibility as a careful, intentional writer often depends on the subtle signals your text sends. The solution isn’t to give up your independence. It’s to choose your structure on purpose.

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Mandy in uniform — Look how adorable I was in my Air Force uniform!

Recently, Vikki over at The View Outside wrote an interesting blog post on her first job. I enjoyed reading about her first job experience and thought it would be fun to revisit my own. Then, thinking of my colorful job history, I thought it might be even more fun to give you a list of all of the jobs I have done. Brace yourself.

I got my first regular gig in the 8^th grade (age 12-13.) I worked as an after-school nanny for a family with six kids. While I was technically only paid to watch the three youngest (the three oldest weren’t much younger than I was and were supposed to be watching themselves,) I was ultimately responsible for keeping all six alive.

The three oldest were all boys, and all terrors. I’m pretty sure at least two of them had crushes on me. So of course, they liked to torment me. Because that’s what boys do at that age when they like a girl. I worked somewhere around twenty hours a week for an entire school year until the family moved away. Then I was back to working the occasional weekend babysitting job or cleaning up my neighbor’s wooded lot once or twice a year. Continue reading “My first jobs” →