Is There Such a Thing as an Independent Scholar?

One unfortunate side effect of my current employment situation is that it is hard to think about much beyond the need for money, or the desire for something more stable. Even simple hobbies like knitting or yoga have fallen by the wayside, as they either themselves require money or I feel too antsy just sitting about the house when there are Jobs to Be Found. I suspect that this is typical -- a weird mix of apathy and anxiety seems appropriate for the un- and under-employed.

What is more annoying, however, is the effects this is having on my scholarly persona. You'd think that having all of this unscheduled time would be a boon to the never-a-free-moment academic who's behind on her research, wouldn't you? Yet this is not the case. I haven't cracked a non-fiction book since I left the Midwest, unless you count handspinning bibles and the like. I haven't written a lick beyond the blog. I haven't revised my permanently in-progress article-to-be-submitted-to-a-respectable-journal. I haven't gone anywhere near an academic library or archive or museum.

Lately, I've been trying to figure out what has happened. I think part of it is that the whole exercise is seeming increasingly pointless. I did agree to write a book review, for example, but one of my thoughts on reading the offer was "Why can't I be paid for this?" I've been trying to contact the local historical society to offer my services as a volunteer -- repeatedly -- and have heard nothing back from them. Until this week I've been reluctant to hole up in an archive away from my phone (I finally broke down and obtained a cell phone) . And the idea of academic job searching is not appealing -- it's become lumped into a larger search for jobs that won't make me puke or move to rural Alabama rather than a quest for a home in the ivory tower.

In short, I feel stripped of purpose beyond finding a tolerable job that will keep the roof over my head. It's difficult to think about contributing to the greater knowledge of humanity when this small bit of it feels ignored and irrelevant.

I also feel isolated. Perhaps if I had colleagues in similar situations to chat with regularly things would be better. Unfortunately, there's only one in the area and he is busy, busy, busy himself trying to scrounge enough part-time work to support himself and his family. D. and my grad school friends are good for emotional support, but their experience of research and writing at this point is so different from my own, even without the job complications. The people I encounter in the course of temping are no solution, either; I often feel like I'm checking my head at the door when I walk in with my timesheet -- it's the only way to stay sane.

So I ask the question posed in the title again, but in a slightly different way: can one be a scholar without financial support and in isolation?

I'm afraid that the answer has come to look like "no."