a writer's life for me

This is what Donald Miller, in Blue Like Jazz, has to say about my chosen career:

Writers don't make any money at all. We make about a dollar. It it terrible. But then again, we don't work either. We sit around in our underwear until noon and then go downstairs and make coffee, fry some eggs, read the paper, read part of a book, smell the book, wonder if perhaps we ourselves whould work on our book, smell the book again, throw the book across the room because we are quite jealous that any other person wrote a book, feel terribly guilty about throwing the other schmuck's book across the room because we secretly wonder if God in heaven noticed our evil jealousy, or worse, our laziness. We then lie across the couch facedown and mumble to God to forgive us because we are secretly afraid He is going to dry up all our words because we envied another man's stupid words. And for this, as I said before, we are paid a dollar. We are worth so much more.

And later:

When you are a writer you feel lazy even when you're working. Who gets paid to sit around in a coffee shop all day and type into a computer? But I did work, I kept telling myself. I showed up at Palio every day, and in the evenings I would go to Common Ground. I worked. I wrote. I drove myself crazy writing.
The thing is, at the time, I was writing without a contract. So I wasn't really writing for money, I was writing in hopes of money. And when you are writing without a contract, you feel as though everything you say is completely worthless (technically it is, until you get a contract).

So that's what the famous Donald Miller has to say. These exerpts are from a chapter of reflections on money, hence the monetary bent. But I think it's worth examining anyway, especially in light of my present situation of joblessness.

In one sense, I do have a job right now, several if you'll accept my deffinitions. I work in the writing center, which is a real job because I put in regular hours and make real money. You could call my schoolwork my full time job, since taking a certain number of credit hours and keeping my GPA up ensures that I keep my scholarships, and since the federal government has decided to view these scholarships as income and tax them, I'll consider the work I do to keep them my job. I don't think I'll get any arguments on these, but then there is my writing. I've never been paid for a piece of writing before in my life, but that is the ultimate goal of my current project (even calling it that feels like a lie, I haven't worked on my edits nearly all semester). I mean, that's what all writers hope for--getting published and getting paid. And as Don points out, as an unknown with an incomplete manuscript, hope is all I've got. I guess it's a good thing I've got that in good supply. From time to time I get distracted by the ammount of work left undone, but then I remind myself that those things that are getting in the way of my writing (namely, schoolwork and commitments to music groups on campus) are worthwhile as well, most of the time.

To make this post fit as an entry in my work portfolio for Kirby, I'd like to take issue with Don's description of the writing life in the first quote. When I took January off to finish my book, I did almost none of the things Don lists. I didn't sleep in, I didn't do much reading (I knew that would just be a distraction), and I didn't do my writing in coffeeshops (that, too, would be a distraction since I don't drink coffee and tend to people-watch when in public). Does this mean I fail at the writing life? I don't think so. Not all writers work the same way, and I would argue that Don is more likely to be the exception. Every time I hear about how great writers work, they have some sort of patented formula or schedule that allows them to be amazingly productive. It usually involves having no other job. From this fact I have drawn the conclusion that good writing comes from unemployment. I say this in jest, of course, but it's at least partially true. The best writing comes without distractions, and a day job is just one big distraction to a creative mind. So even though I'm theoretically working toward a career in library work (or publishing, or copy editing, or anything involving words--I'm becoming less picky and more indecisive lately), my ultimate goal is to be unemployed. I would be thrilled if someday I could leave the world of day jobs and make my living with the words I write. Paradoxically, I can't imagine being that successful as a writer if I'm also busy with another job, so I'm not sure if the point of reasonable unemployment can ever be reached. I'll let you know when I get there.

Here is how I imagine an ideal day in my future life as a professional writer:

I will wake up fairly early and go for a bike ride or walk before breakfast. After breakfast I will sit down at my computer and type 2000 words or so of new text on my current project (the greats only write 2000 words a day, and they do it in only 1 or 2 hours. amazing). I will spend the afternoon walking in the park or a mall, anywhere I can watch people, taking notes in a moleskiene notebook of things I want to use in later books. Before dinner I'll spend an hour reading, either a classic or somrthing brand new, to keep up with my writer friends and the business in general. After dinner it's back to work, making edits in existing pages of work. In the summer I'll do this work on the back porch, and in winter I'll curl up in front of the fireplace with my pages and marking pen.

I suppose on some days I'll meet with my agent or publishers about the next book coming out, but I'm hoping those days will be rare, leaving me more time to work. I'm hoping not to be so popular as to necessitate book signings and appearances. I don't like talking to strangers or public speaking--that's why I write instead. Maybe I can write a message and have Kirby or someone deliver it for me, and I'll just sit in the back and smile. Or maybe it wouldn't be so bad, since most of my fans would be children.

I think the other part of the writing life would be traveling and experiencing as many different things as possible so that I never run out of things to write about. I'm doing some of that already, going all over the country with high school groups and to Ireland last year with the choir. Even next week's Boundary Waters excursion should be able to help me with a future book that I've decided will involve a good deal of travel on rivers. As for next year, I suddenly find myself facing two very appealing options: travel continental Europe with the choir or go sailing in the British Virgin Islands. We had a meeting today about the sailing trip, and right now that's the way I'm leaning. I'd learn to sail, which will come in very handy when I write my book involving pirates and sea travel, and I'd get to spend January somewhere warm. Plus, it counts as an English elective, as we'll be exploring the importance of the sea in literature (including pirate lore!). In short, I'm currently in love with the idea. Now if I could just find a summer job to pay for it...

-Kim