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I vowed I wouldn’t write another blog until I finished my novel. But this one couldn’t wait. The novel has taken me a year, as it’s on spec and I had no advance. Writing feels a luxury, hindered by finances, mainly. My ‘working time’ (aka school hours) is reserved for earning. Bills don’t stop coming for aspiring novelists!
If only I had savings, I’ve thought: imagine how many novels I could whizz out if I wasn’t worrying about the mortgage? A room of one’s own, and all that. Truth is: I’ve never saved. I’m someone who – as my
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mother puts it – ‘spends money like it’s going out of fashion.’ Indeed, many of the clothes I spent money on have long gone out of fashion – I see you, Diesel hipster jeans. Others, such as Juicy tracksuits, have come back in again.
I was brought up to ‘waste not, want not’ but it didn’t stick. When aged 13 I got an evening job in a hospital kitchen, I rebelled against my parents’ frugality by… shopping. I spent all my earnings on HMV CDs, Athena posters, Woolworths pick’n’mix.
In my late teens, my Grandpa died. He left us
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grandchildren £15k each. My siblings both used theirs as a deposit on their first home. Me? “That’s too boring. I’ll carry on renting and have… fun!”
It was 1999 and soon property prices rocketed. Turns out, I’d shot myself in my Miu Miu clad foot. Unable to buy, my inheritance was ’enjoyed.’ I rented for the next 17 years, albeit with a nice knitwear collection. Tom and I finally bought in 2016. The deposit took a while to save, as my last proper job was in 2006, when I left ES Magazine as ‘Shopping Editor’ (yes, really). Since
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then I’ve lived freelance, month-to-month. That’s 200 months of hustling to pay bills (and furnish a wine and posh crisps habit).
I’ve earned, I’ve spent. No wonder I’m proud of donating £1 Million from Selfish Mother to charities. I know how easily that money could have been frittered on the business: an Apple Mac here, an Anthropologie chair there.
These days, I earn less, and I still spend. Families are expensive! Prime drinks, Ulez fees, newspapers, Council Tax, croissants, school lunches, Disney +, kids’ clubs, new jeans, not
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to mention bills.
Recently though, I sense a change in my mindset. I’m curious about astute friends: one who won’t buy herself small treats (like a coffee); one who diligently searches Ebay instead of Amazon; one who doesn’t turn on the heating – at all – in winter (opting for wood fires, and layers instead). Those are conscious choices. I want to be more conscious, too.
The buzzphrase ‘financial literacy’ keeps popping into my head. Why isn’t this taught at school? I need to start teaching myself, aged 46. Last week, a financial
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advisor asked me: “Do you really want to be living month to month when you’re 66?” I don’t!
Instagram’s helping me: I’ve got girl crushes on @MyFrugalYear @HerFirst100K and @ShedoesMoney. Ladies who talk about the power of not spending. Spending wisely. Empowering women to invest! To grow money. Can I grow my money, too?
I’m inspired. I’ve opened a savings account. £350 and counting… it’s a start. I’m rekindling a neglected pension fund, too. I’m looking at debt head on instead of leaving envelopes unopened.
Where do
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I want to be in 20 years time, when I’m 66? I’d like to write novels, be mortgage free, out of my overdraft, active and healthy in mind and spirit. I’d like to travel freely, eat well, have plenty of beach time, pay my bills effortlessly, live minimally and most of all, help my children flourish.
When I imagine that future, being financially astute doesn’t sound boring. So, I’m embarking on a journey, starting with how not to spend it. With possible exceptions for wine and posh crisps.
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Molly Gunn, Editor - 4 Nov 23
I vowed I wouldn’t write another blog until I finished my novel. But this one couldn’t wait. The novel has taken me a year, as it’s on spec and I had no advance. Writing feels a luxury, hindered by finances, mainly. My ‘working time’ (aka school hours) is reserved for earning. Bills don’t stop coming for aspiring novelists!
If only I had savings, I’ve thought: imagine how many novels I could whizz out if I wasn’t worrying about the mortgage? A room of one’s own, and all that. Truth is: I’ve never saved. I’m someone who – as my mother puts it – ‘spends money like it’s going out of fashion.’ Indeed, many of the clothes I spent money on have long gone out of fashion – I see you, Diesel hipster jeans. Others, such as Juicy tracksuits, have come back in again.
I was brought up to ‘waste not, want not’ but it didn’t stick. When aged 13 I got an evening job in a hospital kitchen, I rebelled against my parents’ frugality by… shopping. I spent all my earnings on HMV CDs, Athena posters, Woolworths pick’n’mix.
In my late teens, my Grandpa died. He left us grandchildren £15k each. My siblings both used theirs as a deposit on their first home. Me? “That’s too boring. I’ll carry on renting and have… fun!”
It was 1999 and soon property prices rocketed. Turns out, I’d shot myself in my Miu Miu clad foot. Unable to buy, my inheritance was ‘enjoyed.’ I rented for the next 17 years, albeit with a nice knitwear collection. Tom and I finally bought in 2016. The deposit took a while to save, as my last proper job was in 2006, when I left ES Magazine as ‘Shopping Editor’ (yes, really). Since then I’ve lived freelance, month-to-month. That’s 200 months of hustling to pay bills (and furnish a wine and posh crisps habit).
I’ve earned, I’ve spent. No wonder I’m proud of donating £1 Million from Selfish Mother to charities. I know how easily that money could have been frittered on the business: an Apple Mac here, an Anthropologie chair there.
These days, I earn less, and I still spend. Families are expensive! Prime drinks, Ulez fees, newspapers, Council Tax, croissants, school lunches, Disney +, kids’ clubs, new jeans, not to mention bills.
Recently though, I sense a change in my mindset. I’m curious about astute friends: one who won’t buy herself small treats (like a coffee); one who diligently searches Ebay instead of Amazon; one who doesn’t turn on the heating – at all – in winter (opting for wood fires, and layers instead). Those are conscious choices. I want to be more conscious, too.
The buzzphrase ‘financial literacy’ keeps popping into my head. Why isn’t this taught at school? I need to start teaching myself, aged 46. Last week, a financial advisor asked me: “Do you really want to be living month to month when you’re 66?” I don’t!
Instagram’s helping me: I’ve got girl crushes on @MyFrugalYear @HerFirst100K and @ShedoesMoney. Ladies who talk about the power of not spending. Spending wisely. Empowering women to invest! To grow money. Can I grow my money, too?
I’m inspired. I’ve opened a savings account. £350 and counting… it’s a start. I’m rekindling a neglected pension fund, too. I’m looking at debt head on instead of leaving envelopes unopened.
Where do I want to be in 20 years time, when I’m 66? I’d like to write novels, be mortgage free, out of my overdraft, active and healthy in mind and spirit. I’d like to travel freely, eat well, have plenty of beach time, pay my bills effortlessly, live minimally and most of all, help my children flourish.
When I imagine that future, being financially astute doesn’t sound boring. So, I’m embarking on a journey, starting with how not to spend it. With possible exceptions for wine and posh crisps.
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Molly Gunn is the founder and editor of Selfish Mother, a site she created for like-minded women in 2013. Molly has been a journalist for over 15 years, starting out working on fashion desks at The Guardian, The Telegraph & ES Magazine before going freelance in 2006 to write for quality publications. She now edits Selfish Mother, sells #GoodTees to raise funds for charity, & writes freelance for Red Magazine and The Sunday Telegraph's Stella. Molly is mother to Rafferty, 6, Fox, 4, and baby Liberty. She is married to Tom aka music producer Tee Mango and founder of Millionhands. They live in Bruton, Somerset.
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