Writing shit
January 9th 2008 22:55
Two years ago I gave my husband a date he put into his electronic diary as ‘the day he could retire.’ I told him by then my book would be making so much money he would never have to work another day in his life. At least not in a suit and tie. Alas that date has come and gone. Ahem. In his unbridled generosity which is the hallmark of his disposition not to mention the very foundation of my affection for him, he’s given me an extension. An unlimited one at that.
I’ve been a full-time writer now for three years. And strike me down with a bolt of lightening if I don’t bow my head in thanks every single day for the sheer privilege of doing what I do. I have yet to imagine a better way to spend one’s day than sitting at a keyboard and puzzling out the stories and conundrums of daily existence. Since I am not JK Rowling, nor have any of my books won fancy prizes with decent cash prizes attached, I still battle to ‘make a living’ out of my chosen profession. But see, I have what a lot of other extremely talented writers out there don’t – a wonderful husband (godblesshim) who has put his balls to the wall on the singular conviction that my success is just around the corner and therefore is content to have the boring nine-to-five job that pays the mortgage and school fees because those royalties are going to come rolling in. Any day now. Really.
While Virginia Woolf was spot-on about women needing a room of their own, she ought to have stressed that they also need a breadwinner of their own. Especially if their room is frequently invaded by small people chanting in ear-piercing decibels the spell that shatters all coherent thought and writing bliss: ‘MUUUUUUUMMMMMY.’
I grew up with a father who is a cartoonist, and I watched him struggle to be true to his art and support a growing family through my childhood years. Only this I know: there was nothing, nothing at all he could have done other than use the talent that was secreted into him from the time he was four years old and picked up a pencil. As a man in a world of gendered expectations about who brings home the bacon, he had the added stress of commercializing his art to feed us lot. Only now do I fully appreciate the daily battle he faced to find a way to do what he could do best and make a living.
I met with my publisher recently. We spoke about my next book project. I told her I’ m over 'artistic integrity' and am happy to write something - anything - that will sell like hotcakes. She confessed to me that, a few exceptional books aside, it is generally shit that sells. I am thinking how bad can writing shit be if you don't have to worry about school fees? I have no idea where to start or what to do other than put a dead body on page one and conjure a protagonist who is both a detective, a part-time hooker and holds The Secret to some ancient cult that she can only access by giving as many blowjobs as she can in exotic locations.
If I write it, d’yall promise to go out and buy my book?
My dream is to come home with a brand new set of golf clubs for my long-suffering devoted fan of a husband, and tell him, ‘Better stock up on the sun block.’
Today's blog is dedicated to all those out there who support writers and artists to live their dream. Yes, that's you Zed. Thanks. JF.
www.joannefedler.com
I’ve been a full-time writer now for three years. And strike me down with a bolt of lightening if I don’t bow my head in thanks every single day for the sheer privilege of doing what I do. I have yet to imagine a better way to spend one’s day than sitting at a keyboard and puzzling out the stories and conundrums of daily existence. Since I am not JK Rowling, nor have any of my books won fancy prizes with decent cash prizes attached, I still battle to ‘make a living’ out of my chosen profession. But see, I have what a lot of other extremely talented writers out there don’t – a wonderful husband (godblesshim) who has put his balls to the wall on the singular conviction that my success is just around the corner and therefore is content to have the boring nine-to-five job that pays the mortgage and school fees because those royalties are going to come rolling in. Any day now. Really.
While Virginia Woolf was spot-on about women needing a room of their own, she ought to have stressed that they also need a breadwinner of their own. Especially if their room is frequently invaded by small people chanting in ear-piercing decibels the spell that shatters all coherent thought and writing bliss: ‘MUUUUUUUMMMMMY.’
I grew up with a father who is a cartoonist, and I watched him struggle to be true to his art and support a growing family through my childhood years. Only this I know: there was nothing, nothing at all he could have done other than use the talent that was secreted into him from the time he was four years old and picked up a pencil. As a man in a world of gendered expectations about who brings home the bacon, he had the added stress of commercializing his art to feed us lot. Only now do I fully appreciate the daily battle he faced to find a way to do what he could do best and make a living.
I met with my publisher recently. We spoke about my next book project. I told her I’ m over 'artistic integrity' and am happy to write something - anything - that will sell like hotcakes. She confessed to me that, a few exceptional books aside, it is generally shit that sells. I am thinking how bad can writing shit be if you don't have to worry about school fees? I have no idea where to start or what to do other than put a dead body on page one and conjure a protagonist who is both a detective, a part-time hooker and holds The Secret to some ancient cult that she can only access by giving as many blowjobs as she can in exotic locations.
If I write it, d’yall promise to go out and buy my book?
My dream is to come home with a brand new set of golf clubs for my long-suffering devoted fan of a husband, and tell him, ‘Better stock up on the sun block.’
Today's blog is dedicated to all those out there who support writers and artists to live their dream. Yes, that's you Zed. Thanks. JF.
www.joannefedler.com
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Comment by tlcorbin
Coffee Quip
A Global Citizen
Paranormal Paranormal
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Comment by Michaelie
Flick Wit
Jo, don't write about something you have absolutely no passion for. It would be different if you were desperate and had to go out and sell toilets despite having no passion for cisterns and such - but writing is more than a job, and if you compromise it too much you might regret it in the end.
Maybe there is middle ground between artistic integrity and commercialism? God, I hope so, but it must be hard to recognise the line sometimes between compromise, and compromising yourself.
I haven't read Secret Mothers' Business yet, though the more I talk to you, the more sure I am that it is fantastic. Just keep at it, and I'm sure you'll be on to a winner soon... maybe Things Without a Name will be the one...?
Michaelie
Comment by secretwritersbusiness
I keep the faith that someday it will be viable to write and make a living. But the truth is, that without my husband's financial support, I wouldn't be able to do this. And even with it, it sometimes feels like an indulgence.
But I hope someday to switch the roles, so that I'm the one earning, and he's the one living his dream.
You're a honey, thanks for your lovely comment before I go to bed.
Sweet dreams
Jo
Comment by AmyHuang
Sydney Table
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Travel String
Love Adventures
I think you are lucky to have a supportive husband!
Michaelie - I write crap too! What a coincidence! LOL
Amy
Comment by Michaelie
Flick Wit
But I love your posts.
Jo - no worries
Comment by Mrs M
Mum's Word
Mr M and I often say the same thing about movies. We can't believe some of the crap that gets loads of money thrown at it and the good stuff doesn't get a look in.
One day Jo....one day we'll be kicking back living off those royalties and reminisce about the good ol' days when we were all broke
Love & stuff
Mrs M