Life is hard. I’m not just talking about working 40 hours a week for unclear gains, maybe they even have dubious moral value for you, I don’t know, but even without that, children with needs, nominally adult people with needs, pets, etc. It’s a lot to keep up with when I just want to be an artist. My idea of being an artist is not caring about my body odor or whether or not my sheets get washed. Food magically appears. Fairies make my bed. Bluebirds come to my open French Doors and take my silk shirt to the dry cleaners, and I just sit at my computer and compose brilliant prose. Isn’t that the dream?
It sounds nice. I haven’t had that experience, but theoretically, it sounds great.
Writing is expensive. Not the actual act of writing, but anyone who tells you that the training that goes into being a writer doesn’t cost anything is full of you-know-what. It takes time if nothing else, and that means time that could be spent climbing the corporate ladder, working an entry-level job, slinging lattés, flirting with billionaires, who knows?
While I’m not a fan of McKee On Story, I have to admit that yes, it’s a realistic plan that you will write 1,000 words to every 5,000 you read if you actually expect anyone to voluntarily read your work. That takes time. Fast readers can finish an average-length novel in three days if they don’t have kids who want to be fed, a spouse who needs help with papercuts, and cats who vomit on the floor. Basically, this means nobody can read a novel in three days. It usually takes about a week, and the publishing industry absolutely has the irrational expectation that we’re all spinsters without pets. We also all feed ourselves intravenously, I guess.
All of this goes to say, yes, I understand why so many writers at some point choose to at least try to take a year or two off to dedicate to their writing. I don’t think that’s a universally bad idea. I do think it needs to be planned. Let’s start with the basic concept of a sabbatical. If you want to spend a year or two not working, save for that year or two. Not easy, but it’s a step. The other piece is figuring out who takes care of your house and anyone else who doesn’t seem to know how to clean a toilet.
A planned sabbatical is a great idea. I highly support it. Start saving for it now. Maybe add a buffer for housekeeping, pet sitting, a home chef, and anything else you can think of because I guarantee you that as soon as you seem more “available” everyone in your home is going to develop special needs.
The other more common option I see is, “I can’t hack it at a day job, so I’m going to quit and become a New York Times Bestseller.” Well, you’re not. The book might. You aren’t being sold anywhere. The thing about distinguishing between the human and the book is the human receives an advance. Once that’s paid out, they receive a percentage after the agent receives their cut. It’s not a lot of money, and this is assuming all goes well. Someone at this maturity level probably won’t do well.
Why do I say this? Being a writer is a professional job. You have people to answer to, and they don’t need to give you reasons. Also, everything is paid in portions, and everything moves slowly. It’s not going to be life-changing money overnight.
My mother counted on this plan because she was exhausted by teaching during the day and writing it night. All she won was a three-month psychiatric hospitalization and a weird relationship with her daughter. She also couldn’t buy anything for fun for the next five decades until her freelance career took off. Why? What’s the point? She wasn’t even having fun.
Quitting your job to write puts your partner under a ton of pressure and guilts them into supporting your. Writing doesn’t pay well. Late in your career through a combination of royalty streams, advances, speaking engagements, and possibly some freelance editing work, you might have good income, but writing your debut novel will not pay well, and lying to a partner about that is kind of gross.
If you need dedicated time off to work on a specific project and you want income to support your during that time, consider applying for a paid residency. The Association of Writers and Writing Programs is an excellent resource for this, if you are seeking a formal program. If you need childcare, pet care, house sitting, etc., it might be worth pooling resources with your fellow writers to create an informal retreat.
Whatever you decide to do, don’t assume that you are less committed because you aren’t ruining your marriage or becoming homeless because you aren’t dedicated enough to your writing. Most writers work with a day job, and it’s actually pretty enriching.
A job gives you time away from unpaid labor that shows that you add value to humans that aren’t feeding off your body in some way.
If you want a break: save for the break and the space and services that will give you a break. If you want to attend a residency: budget for tuition, travel, incompetence at home, and time off from work.
Godspeed!
It sounds nice. I haven’t had that experience, but theoretically, it sounds great.
Writing is expensive. Not the actual act of writing, but anyone who tells you that the training that goes into being a writer doesn’t cost anything is full of you-know-what. It takes time if nothing else, and that means time that could be spent climbing the corporate ladder, working an entry-level job, slinging lattés, flirting with billionaires, who knows?
While I’m not a fan of McKee On Story, I have to admit that yes, it’s a realistic plan that you will write 1,000 words to every 5,000 you read if you actually expect anyone to voluntarily read your work. That takes time. Fast readers can finish an average-length novel in three days if they don’t have kids who want to be fed, a spouse who needs help with papercuts, and cats who vomit on the floor. Basically, this means nobody can read a novel in three days. It usually takes about a week, and the publishing industry absolutely has the irrational expectation that we’re all spinsters without pets. We also all feed ourselves intravenously, I guess.
All of this goes to say, yes, I understand why so many writers at some point choose to at least try to take a year or two off to dedicate to their writing. I don’t think that’s a universally bad idea. I do think it needs to be planned. Let’s start with the basic concept of a sabbatical. If you want to spend a year or two not working, save for that year or two. Not easy, but it’s a step. The other piece is figuring out who takes care of your house and anyone else who doesn’t seem to know how to clean a toilet.
A planned sabbatical is a great idea. I highly support it. Start saving for it now. Maybe add a buffer for housekeeping, pet sitting, a home chef, and anything else you can think of because I guarantee you that as soon as you seem more “available” everyone in your home is going to develop special needs.
The other more common option I see is, “I can’t hack it at a day job, so I’m going to quit and become a New York Times Bestseller.” Well, you’re not. The book might. You aren’t being sold anywhere. The thing about distinguishing between the human and the book is the human receives an advance. Once that’s paid out, they receive a percentage after the agent receives their cut. It’s not a lot of money, and this is assuming all goes well. Someone at this maturity level probably won’t do well.
Why do I say this? Being a writer is a professional job. You have people to answer to, and they don’t need to give you reasons. Also, everything is paid in portions, and everything moves slowly. It’s not going to be life-changing money overnight.
My mother counted on this plan because she was exhausted by teaching during the day and writing it night. All she won was a three-month psychiatric hospitalization and a weird relationship with her daughter. She also couldn’t buy anything for fun for the next five decades until her freelance career took off. Why? What’s the point? She wasn’t even having fun.
Quitting your job to write puts your partner under a ton of pressure and guilts them into supporting your. Writing doesn’t pay well. Late in your career through a combination of royalty streams, advances, speaking engagements, and possibly some freelance editing work, you might have good income, but writing your debut novel will not pay well, and lying to a partner about that is kind of gross.
If you need dedicated time off to work on a specific project and you want income to support your during that time, consider applying for a paid residency. The Association of Writers and Writing Programs is an excellent resource for this, if you are seeking a formal program. If you need childcare, pet care, house sitting, etc., it might be worth pooling resources with your fellow writers to create an informal retreat.
Whatever you decide to do, don’t assume that you are less committed because you aren’t ruining your marriage or becoming homeless because you aren’t dedicated enough to your writing. Most writers work with a day job, and it’s actually pretty enriching.
A job gives you time away from unpaid labor that shows that you add value to humans that aren’t feeding off your body in some way.
If you want a break: save for the break and the space and services that will give you a break. If you want to attend a residency: budget for tuition, travel, incompetence at home, and time off from work.
Godspeed!