How I Earn a Living

Many moons ago I wrote a post explaining that it is possible to earn a comfortable living as a writer.

The post generated a lot of comments, which makes me happy. I like comments. The post also generated a number of personal emails, which makes me, I think, even happier.

Most of these emails asked me the same thing:

HOW can you earn a comfortable living as a writer?

Ah, right, I did overlook that.

For me, it was always about balancing salaried writing with personal writing. When I decided to do this for a living, I sought out any writing job I could find that would provide a salary and benefits. What I found was a weekly newspaper gig, which paid terribly but offered up a regular byline and a wealth of experience. Weeklies are still a great place for any unpublished writer and, since the hours are sort of flexible, I found time to write and send out plays, which earned me a few (very few, but, hey, a few is still a few) bucks on the side.

Newspaper writing, I learned, gives you just enough credibility to get better paying work. I went from working on a newspaper to a private school’s Communications Office, writing web stories and press releases and editing the alumni magazine. This Communications Office job led to a better Communications Office job where the web stories and press release stuff was left to other people. I just do the magazines now and I always look for ways to make the articles fun.

But the real fun — the reason why I got into this profession in the first place — was to write my stuff. I find time to do that, too.

If my stuff makes money, great. But if , for example, I receive 114 children’s book rejections or watch one of my plays fail in a very, very public way, my salaried writing income cushions the blow. Sure, I might not be writing exactly what I want to be writing about, but I’m still writing and still earning.

Your Writing Career story will almost certainly be different from mine because there are many paths to earning a living as a writer. But the key, as I mentioned in my old post, is doggedness.

Be patient. Be determined. Be focused. Be resourceful. If you really want this, then promise me that you’ll never, ever, give up, OK?

I’m rooting for you.

Spooky Piggy

Scary Piggy
I have, once again, decided to take part in one of Susanna Leonard Hill’s story contests. In other words, I am a glutton for punishment.

I kid, I kid. I always appreciate a challenge. 

Here are the rules: The story cannot be more than 100 words. It has to be Halloween themed. And it must contain the words “black cat,” “spooky” and “cackle.”

Below is my (very) humble submission. Enjoy!

***

SPOOKY PIGGY

“Boo!” Cuddles shouted. “Boooo! Did I scare you? Am I scary?”

“No,” Claude said, his eyes shut tight.

“Spooky, then? Wooooo! Boooo! Boo woo!”

“Guinea pigs are not scary.”

“Yes we are! Maybe not black cat scary like you, but we are.”

“I am not scary, just sleepy. And you are just noisy. Go.”

With a sad sigh, Cuddles went. Claude closed his eyes.

But then he heard something.

A terrible something.

BATHWATER!

Claude scurried under the daybed.

“Now, that’s scary,” Cuddles said, leaning against the faucet.

She then let out a squeaky little cackle.

My beloved pig was never spooky. She was, however, crafty, ornery, mischievous and a cute fuzzy little bugger.
My pig, Pig. Not spooky, just adorable.

An Intervention for the Literary Lothario

Setting: A bar. MIKE and the LITERARY LOTHARIO sit at a table. MIKE drinks a hard cider. The LITERARY LOTHARIO is downing something a bit more potent. MIKE eyes him with disapproval.

MIKE

I can’t believe what I’m hearing, buddy. A few months ago you couldn’t stop talking about your Novel. It was as if there was nothing else in the world. You couldn’t stop telling me how beautiful she was, how unique she was. You loved the cute way she wrapped up her first act and how her characters were so well-rounded. And then you went on and on about her story construction! I thought I was gonna have to hose you down.

You knew she was special. You always carved out time to be with her. And when you couldn’t be with her, you thought about her.

So what happened, man?

You know what happened? I’ll tell you what happened. It happens in every relationship. You’re halfway through the first draft. You moved past the dreamy, infatuation stage, and you started to notice that your Novel wasn’t as perfect as you thought she was.

And now you’re starting to ask yourself questions:

“Did she always have that plot hole?”

“Was that well-rounded character I loved so much always just a loose assembly of quirky traits?”

And now you’re starting to think, “Why is this relationship requiring so much work?”

You wanna know the answer to that last one? Because all relationships require work.

And now that things have gotten a little more real, now that the glow has faded a little, you’re starting to stray.

You don’t think I see your eyes wander? I heard about you and that novella. Don’t even bother denying it. And just the other day I spotted you canoodling with some free verse. What are you, 17? Grow up! God only know what you can catch from such a loose and unrestrained form of writing!

You have a beautiful Novel at home and you’re out cruising for new stories. Do you think that’s the way to strengthen a relationship? Do you think that’s the way to be happy? And don’t even pretend that this is her fault. You’re screwing this all up, not her.

(Pause. MIKE sighs.)

Let me tell you something, bucko. In the long run this behavior will leave you empty inside. You’ll look back on a life full of empty flings and false starts and wonder why you don’t have a fully-realized Novel to call your own.

You were in love, man! IN LOVE! You and your Novel were the perfect pair. Don’t walk away from that.

Go home, dummy. Work on that Novel of yours. Rekindle that spark. ‘Cause let me tell you something. If you don’t take good care of her, I will. You get me?

(The LITERARY LOTHARIO exits, leaving his drink half finished. MIKE nods and smiles.)

Attaboy.

(MIKE finishes off his cider and waves for another round as the lights fade.)