Why You Might Not Want to Be a Writer
Fear not, my long-time readers. I haven’t suddenly flipped a switch and decided to start throwing metaphorical boiling oil behind me to discourage those on the same path. The point of this entry, with its very eye-catching title, is not necessarily to convince any of you to give up on being a writer, but more to present an honest version of what to expect.
Writer is one of those artsy jobs that seems almost mystical from the outside, like actor, painter, or any other industry that appears to convert passion into profit. It can look as though the entire thing is effortless, as though we roll out of bed, lay hands upon our medium, then ascend the stairs to bathe in gently warmed champagne, secure in the knowledge that our work will be appropriately valued. And in fairness, part of that perception lies in the fact that many folks love to present the process as if that’s how it occurs. The image of the natural genius is one many fields covet, so oftentimes the hard work of a process gets skimmed over in discussions, as no one, especially the artist at the center of it, wants to break the spell.
Luckily, there is nothing about me or my brand of ridiculousness that requires such an image. I am a fuckup, the best lessons I learn are ones gained through trial and error, which means I make plenty of errors along my way. Hell, I published a book half-dedicated to that very concept and passing on what I’ve taken from various mistakes. So while I can’t comment on living off other art forms, I can at least forewarn you all about the aspects of what writing as a job is like, including the unfun pieces that aren’t always talked about.
The Instability
I know this is an obvious one, the most obvious one, but it still has to be said. I mean, really, truly, has to be said. You can’t talk about this field without mentioning how much of a gamble everything is. And I do mean everything. Most people think of the well-known potential failure points: being rejected by a publisher or a book failing to sell well, but those are a drop in the bucket. If you’re going for traditional publishing, you’ll have to find an agent and that agent will have to shop a manuscript, a publishing company will have to buy it, negotiations have to pan out, you have to be okay with the edits, and that’s only some of the stuff before you publish. Afterwards, there’s trying to negotiate a sequel or next book, fighting to keep it in print, hoping your company makes audio versions, this one could go on for a long while.
I’m sure my indie folks are feeling smug at the moment, but truth be told our ground isn’t much more stable. Amazon effectively controls the indie book market. No one else out there, even now, is offering comparative tools and features. Which means we are heavily at their mercy. Imagine tomorrow, out of nowhere, Amazon announced Kindle books would pay a royalty of 50% instead of 70%. I don’t know many of us who could handle losing a little less than a third of our income at all, let alone without warning. While I obviously hope that never happens, the fact remains that it could, and we as indies would have little recourse. Yes, leaving to a new platform is an option, but in the end a lot of people’s financial footing would absolutely give way.
That’s why I say we have to touch on the instability. Short of reaching insane levels of wealth and success, it will always be a factor weighing on your mind. If that’s not the sort of thing you cope well with, you might not want to try and make this your living.
The Churn
“Learn to love the churn” is something I often tell new writers, where “the churn” is the process of constantly creating books. This is not a job with an end date. If you’re dreaming of writing one massive hit novel and living off the royalties for the rest of your life, well… I suppose dreams are the right place for that sort of fantasy. Because in reality, it isn’t happening. Yes, I understand there are occasional outliers, however we don’t write business advice assuming most readers won the lottery; same principle here.
Once you start writing as a career, expect to be doing a lot of writing, or a lot of running out of money. There should always be something working, cooking, in edits or outline, some new project in progress down the pipeline. You are always working, always churning, because there are countless new books hitting the shelves every day. If you want to keep your other books topical, if you want to bring in new eyes to the old catalog, if you want to stay relevant, then the answer is the churn. Every new entry is a chance to entertain existing readers and potentially gain some new ones.
Now, if you really enjoy writing, that’s not such a bad deal. It’s a constant motivator for me to keep my output up, which gives me enough versatility in the schedule to try some experimental stuff. Were I only doing one book per year, I’d have to give a lot more thought to which series got entries, as that would mean each book was hauling a lot of the fiscal workload. Thanks to the churn, some years I put out enough that I can risk taking a loss on a project just because I want to. For someone who really loves writing, this can be still be draining but overall worthwhile. However, if you see writing as an easy-out where you only need to succeed a single time, this is not going to be a career you probably find much joy in.
I might make this into something of a series, there are certainly other topics to touch on, but this feels like a good marco-coverage of the biggest points. Hopefully that didn’t scare you off too much, as I said up top, my goal is never to dissuade someone from trying to write or make a career out of that passion. But I think walking in with eyes open, prepared for the challenges awaiting, you have a better chance of weathering the inevitable rough seas and hanging on long enough to see the sunshine of success.