In writing, milestones are sometimes fuzzy. When we start out writing, we expect that measurements of when we’ve “made it” to be clear and easily defined. We’ll sit down with our notebooks, at our typewriters, at our laptops, and we’ll type away until a book – novel, non-fiction, memoir, it doesn’t matter – appears beneath our fingers. Or we’ll jet about the country, finding interesting people, uncovering earth-shattering news, writing the details of what we find, and our names and our words will appear on the cover of Time or National Geographic. Regardless of the writing track we’re pursuing, it will be easy. We’ll sit down, write, and publish. We will make a living from our writing. We will be writers. Easy peasy.
Reality soon shatters our illusions. Writing is hard. Sure, the stories are in our head; the interesting people are out there. But using words to create images on the page is not as easy as it sounds. People with stories that need to be told don’t just appear next to us while we wait in line at the grocery. Not to mention the old adage “writing is rewriting” is far truer than we could have ever imagined. This writing thing is work. It takes time and energy. Research takes effort and, in some cases, money.
That’s the other thing we writers soon learn. It takes an incredibly long time to make a living from our words and in the meantime, we have to pay our rent and put food on the table. Even when we have loved ones who make enough to keep a roof over our heads and our bellies full, they often don’t make enough to pay for braces, a second car, Julia’s band dues, or for us to pay postage to keep sending manuscripts out. We have to do something to contribute to the household’s financial well-being while we wait for the world to discover us. In some cases, that means a day job – part-time or full-time. For others, that means getting really creative and finding ways to make our writing pay for itself in the meantime. In many ways, the day job is easier.
Through it all, our families and friends, keep waiting for us to “make it,” as do we. When, people ask, will we be able to take them on a celebratory trip to Disney World? With each achievement they want to know if they can auction off our stolen underwear on eBay yet or hold our cat for ransom. Can they say they knew us when? And with each guess-where-I-just-got-accepted-e-mail, we answer “not yet.”
In traditional careers, the milestones are easier to recognize. A raise. A promotion. A title added to our business cards. In writing – as in most creative endeavors – the markers of success are not that clearly defined. First acceptance is certainly one, as is the first rejection. First sale for money. First request for something specific. First letter from someone who has read your work. First… In truth, writing is a career of firsts and they all mean something to us, even if they don’t mean we’ve made it yet.
Over time, we come to recognize the truth of that other adage, the one that says it takes twenty years to become an overnight success. Being a writer, we realize, is not a destination, but a journey, no matter how cliché that may sound. Each achievement is not so much a milestone as it is a signpost confirming we are traveling toward our goals. It is progress. We might, one day, be able to make a living at our craft or become a household name. I question if we will have arrived even then. More than likely, those achievements will be yet another signpost on our path, telling us we are still growing in the direction we chose for ourselves so long ago. In the distance, there will be still another goal waiting for us and we will still be telling our friends and family “not yet,” this achievement is not the destination, but merely a step in the journey we are on.
03 December 2009
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5 comments:
I totally agree. It's really frustrating trying to achieve those goals. But the important thing is that we have enough faith in ourselves to accomplish them.
Navels are also fuzzy, if one doesn't clean out the lint from time to time. I suspect most writers have fuzzy navels. Or scotch.
Exactly right, Dawn.
MB, I prefer wine, though I also have a bottle of spiced rum.
I think I stepped in something during my journey...
Was it a gift from Haggis?
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