how much work is 'too much' work?

on defining (and redefining) workaholism

My 14-year-old had the day off yesterday and, instead of doing anything cool, we spent it inside staring at or, to be more accurate in my case, sweating at screens. We were away last week and, as a result, I’m currently laughably underwater work-wise, simultaneously juggling a full-time job and three creative projects while crafting a pitch for a a fourth. My inbox is madness. I’m dreaming about work again, thinking about my in-process novel and this newsletter and an upcoming audio project in a way that can, and often does, blot out most everything else.

I wrote an entire book about recovering from workaholism but, a year after its release, I find those fundamental tendencies hard to shake. While my middle-aged friends discover new passions, I remain intensely hot for my own professional output. What a boring-ass kink.

To be fair, my ambition has changed as I’ve gotten older — I no longer seek validation from bosses, nor do I need to meet someone else’s goals/expectations to prove my worth. I’m not itchy or compulsive in the way I once was, but much more focused, present and clear. These days, I’m committed to maintaining and guarding my creative autonomy, balancing day-job financial ground cover with pushing myself to make whatever interesting shit I can in the time I have left.

I know a job won’t love me back, but creative work feels somehow energetically reciprocal, satisfying in a way that (almost!) makes it seem as if it can.

Studies show that making (and even experiencing) art both reduces cortisol and raises serotonin — and can even enhance brain function. Could it be that this more mature relationship to overwork is not, as I’ve often thought, about a masochistic/self-punishing grind but instead those good brain-engagement vibes?

I’m about to pitch another big project next week, even though, if you looked at my 31,000 unread messages, you’d probably say I have no business pitching another big project. I can already see the stress I’ll experience if I get it, the hours I’ll have to put in, the work/life balance compromises required to do it well.

But you know what I also see? The thrill of the challenge and impossible-to-quantify value of the learning, the ecstatic pride I’ll feel if I can actually pull it off. What I see, most clearly, is the joy of accomplishing something new that I really want to do before I die.

A few weeks ago, on Amy Poehler’s excellent podcast Good Hang, Tina Fey (who, incidentally, grew up in the same Delco, PA community I did, and went to my high school at the same time I was there), described her own workaholism like this: “I am a work based person…you know how they say of some dogs ‘oh they want to work or they’ll go insane?’ I’m that kind of animal.”

And it made me think: What if enjoying work is just built into who you are, if it’s as inherent to your unique makeup as handedness or a stronger sense of smell? What if it’s not a character flaw to find working a privilege and a pleasure? Even if it sometimes means you gobble up more than you should?

When Ambition Monster first came out, I got pushback from internet lady bosses who said I was “anti-ambition,” the subtext being that I was undervaluing women’s strides at work and wanting to set us back. But this could not be further from the truth. More and more, I’ve come to admire this new, but no-less-potent flavor of later-in-life ambition, to see certain intentional work as a source of growth, connection and even defiance, especially if you’re lucky enough to get any of it on your own terms.

How much work is “too much” work? Depends on the work! My feelings about this are ever-shifting, but I know for certain that the answer is not one-size-fits-all prescriptive, but more personal, something that shifts and changes over time. Surviving late-stage capitalism as non-billionaires means few of us will ever get the work-life balance we want, the math will always be less than ideal. The trick is to try the best you can to create a life that meets your needs and at least some of your desires, while also somehow looking out the window enough to enjoy the ride.