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Category Archives: Day jobs and writers

Day jobs and writers (5)

by clairehennessy

“You can find work and sort your life out anytime. The pub closes in five hours.”
Black Books

So, ‘day jobs’. I have occasionally been accused of never having had a ‘real job’, which depending on my mood either seems sort-of true or else sort-of an obnoxious thing to say. No one ever says to a plumber or a hairdresser working for themselves that they have a fake job.

However, the pros/cons of freelance/self-employment/small-business-type stuff are often the same as for writing in general. YAY for often getting to work in your pyjamas and/or working on your own schedule, and BOO for the difficulties in time management, uncertainty about payments, etc. It’s also often dangerous to calculate ‘per hour’ anythings.

And sometimes, every so often, I do contemplate, for example, life as a history teacher. Or accountant. Or a variety of different jobs, with their associated pros and cons.

But back to this question: ‘what kind of day job works best for me as a writer?’ I know writers and know of writers who are also: academics (not necessarily in the field of English Literature), administrators, website developers, primary- and second-level teachers, editors, scientists, economists, actors, life coaches, journalists, managers, managing directors, doctors, vets, lawyers, literary agents, booksellers, bookshop owners, book reviewers, creative writing teachers. A mix of related and unrelated jobs. (Some of them – teaching creative writing, often editing, sometimes book reviewer– are of the sort that tend to happen after publication rather than before; others require specialist training in their field.)

I don’t think there’s any one best day job for a writer, or for anyone. But here’s my list of things I think are worth considering:

1. Pressure and stress.
How much pressure will you be under? How much of this is pressure and stress that you’ll take home? How much mental energy is used up in relation to work? How much physical energy? How much stress is put on your wrists/hands?

2. Pay.
How much does the job pay? How is the pay calculated – per unit, per hour, per week/month? What’s the gap between doing the work and being paid for it? Does the job pay well enough to let you work less than ‘full-time’ if you need to?

3. Expenses.
Does the pay cover your living expenses (food, shelter, clothing, transport costs)? Do you have the resources to cover emergency costs (e.g. repairs, healthcare)? How about other expenses (e.g. holidays, books, DVDs, wine, designer shoes, redecorating things, birthday/Christmas presents, internet, etc)? What about your expenses are you prepared to modify? What are you prepared to prioritise?

4. Location.
Where is the job? How long does it take to get there and back? If working from home (including unpaid work like caring, childminding, housework, etc.), is the ‘work space’ different from the ‘writing space’? Is there a way of switching over to ‘writing time’?

5. Time.
How many hours will you be working? How many days a week? How much time off do you have? How much notice do you need to give for time off? Is the work seasonal or the same year-round?

6. Quality time.
How busy will you be when working? Is there ‘waiting around’ time? Is it possible to think/daydream/plan/write during any of this time? Is it possible to do other tasks (e.g. check personal email) during this time, to free up outside-of-work time? How about reading? Editing? Research?

7. Flexibility and stability.
Do you have a choice over the hours that you work? The weeks? How much notice will you have of whether you’re working or not working? How much notice will you have if your employment ceases entirely? How much if your hours increase or decrease? (This includes working overtime.)

8. Interest.
Are you interested in what you’re doing most of the time? Are you interested in what the work you’re doing contributes to? Are you interested in what the work relates to, whether directly or indirectly? Are you interested in the people you work with? (Not necessarily needing to lust after them, or anything.)

9. Benefits and the future.
What sort of benefits-in-kind are included in the job? Is there an opportunity to travel? How about office parties or free samples? Is there a Christmas bonus? What opportunity for career progression is there? What about the job might benefit your writing?

10. Training.
How much training/education is required in order to be eligible for the job? In order to progress in it (or sometimes to stay in it)? How time-consuming is it? Who pays for it? Does the kind of training/education it is suit your learning style? Are the skills transferrable to other jobs or to your writing – or are they very specific?

11. Writing-for-work.
What kind of writing, if any, does the job involve? (e.g. invoices, letters/emails to customers/clients/co-workers/bosses/employees, memos, reports, articles, press releases, reviews, forms, surveys.) How will you distinguish between writing-for-work and writing-creatively?

Some writers want a career outside of writing, while others just want something to pay the bills. Others want the kind of job they can fit writing-time into, or that facilitates writing-related research. Some want something that ties into writing/books in some way, while others want something completely different. Many want something which is low-stress, well-paid and one-day-a-week, and if any of you know any jobs like that going, do let me know. There are a lot of different factors to take into account – especially if you think about a ‘day job’ as something worth investing in, worth taking seriously, and something that often goes hand-in-hand with your writing career, rather than standing in its way.


Day jobs and writers (4)

by clairehennessy

“When you date someone, it’s like you’re taking one long course in who that person is, and then when you break up, all that stuff becomes useless. It’s the emotional equivalent of an English degree.”
How I Met Your Mother

“What do you do with a BA in English?”
Avenue Q

Before delving into day jobs/other sources of income specifically, we’re pausing at the ‘what should I study at college if I want to Be A Writer?’ question. Because every summer, which is when I do most of my teaching-to-teenagers, the question comes up.

I am a believer in Doing What You Love (Without Completely Starving). I am also a great believer in mocking English degrees. But it’s sort of like making fun of your siblings – you’re allowed do it, as soon as someone outside the family tries it, you leap into defensive, protective mode.

Aside from a handful of degrees, most are an academic rather than vocational qualification. (Case in point which most people tend to forget: a law degree is not a vocational qualification either. Academic exams are not professional exams.) They indicate that you have certain ‘transferrable skills’ which you will never be quite sure that you have, and a certain level of knowledge in a particular subject. They are very rarely a guarantee of a job or a particular job. And when there are degrees that seem to open countless doors for people, always remember that the situation is likely to change in the years it takes to obtain that degree. As someone who started college in the good times, ended in the bad times, and also as someone who started an allegedly more useful degree (only slightly though) and finished with an allegedly impractical degree, I am immensely glad to have studied something I loved. I am immensely glad to not have put myself through years of doing something ‘because it’d get me a good job’ when for many people those good jobs did not happen. There are a lot of things in life you have to do when you don’t want to – then there are things we add to that list. Be aware of when you’re adding to the list, and why you’re doing it.

All that being said, I use what I learned as an English Literature student very infrequently – both as a writer and as a creative writing teacher. English teaches you how to analyse literature. It teaches you critical theory. This is fun and occasionally headache-inducing (hi, postcolonial theory, I’m looking at you) but it’s approaching a text from the other side. As reader rather than as writer. As critic rather than as writer. As commentator on that finished work rather than a writer trying to figure out how the author got there.

We are, in this country, starting to see undergraduate creative writing programmes of the kind that are far more popular in the US, but for the most part undergraduate teaching in English is not like in school – it’s the Leaving Cert Paper 2 stuff, not paper 1.

All that being said, I don’t think English is a bad choice for an aspiring writer, but it does surprise me how many people seem to think it’s specifically training for aspiring writers. It gets you reading a lot, and it gets you writing essays. These are good things.

Is it a necessary prerequisite for Being A Writer, or a quicker pathway to it? Nope.

I think something in the arts and humanities is probably useful for most aspiring/practicing writers. Lots of reading, lots of essay-writing, and lots about people and culture. But then again, business and the social sciences are a lot about people and culture. And so is science, with an additional ‘and the universe’ in there.

What interests you enough to study it for three/four years? What about how it’s taught or assessed appeals to you? What job or further training opportunities does it not give you? What kind job or further training opportunities might it give you? (And if you’re thinking about the latter – what kind of day job might suit you, as a writer?)


Day jobs and writers (3)

by clairehennessy

“I need a job, so I want to be a paperback writer.”
– The Beatles, ‘Paperback Writer’

Let me be clear: it’s not that I think writing for money is bad, or makes you a sell-out, or anything like that. Quite the contrary. I think it’s terrific to be paid to do something you love.

But per hour, writing is pretty badly paid. Ranging from horrifically bad to not-quite-as-bad-as-that. Unless you’re at the very-very-very-very top. And most writers, even those writing full-time, are not at the very-very-very-very top.

Let’s say a writer gets a six-figure advance. Pretty nice, right? For two books, we’ll say. Take 15% for the agent. Take away taxes. Remember that it’s probably being paid out over say, 4 years. Remember that even before the deal is done, there’ll have been, say, 2 years of working on the first book. Now, unless that six-figure advance is much much closer to a seven-figure, it suddenly dissolves into not-great pay. And that’s how things are for the six-figure people, never mind the far more frequent standard (lesser) advances.

And you don’t get anything else ‘til you earn out that advance. And a writer doesn’t actually get the entire cover price, they get a tiny percentage of it, and . . . and we know all this, don’t we?

Then there’s the way it’s spread out, so that whether it’s the lump sum as part of an advance or royalties later, you’re talking about two payments a year. This is based on novels, obviously, and things are a bit different for poetry and short fiction, if you’re lucky enough to be making anything from them. (There are better and smarter posts on this here and here, though largely from the US point-of-view.)

It’s unstable, unpredictable, and infrequent. As living and other expenses are frequent, and sometimes unpredictable, this is not always a good match.

(Mind you, it does mean that doing up budgets and accounts are something else on the ‘have to do’ list…)

So. I’d really like to see more of an emphasis on ‘what kind of day job works best for me as a writer?’ rather than so much of the ‘counting down the years ‘til I can quit the day job’ stuff. Because the latter seems to imply an awful lot of misery in one’s present life, as well as a sense of the hypothetical future as some kind of utopia, where taxes, bills, and laundry have been eradicated from the face of the planet.


Day jobs and writers (2)

by clairehennessy

Buffy: “I’m just saying it doesn’t make any sense. He starred in The Matrix but he never left town. And how’d he graduate from med school? He’s only eighteen years old.”
Xander: “Effective time management?”
– ‘Superstar’, Buffy the Vampire Slayer

So there’s ‘interruptions still exist’, and then there’s this: I’m a procrastinator. I’m guessing a lot of you are, too.

I’m a believer in working with procrastination, which means that sometimes I do things at odd times and try to keep busy enough to always have something to do when I’m avoiding doing something else. It’s not a foolproof system by a long shot and I’m constantly reassessing and readjusting how much ‘busy’ is good and how much will make my head explode, and then lamenting a sense of getting nothing done, but . . . okay, it’s a mess some of the time. But it’s at its least messiest when there are a lot of things to do.

It’s one of those time-management things (and I love effective time-management, so I do. I aspire to it. Dream about it.) – when you have hours and hours to do one thing, you put it off. If it’s not definite, if it’s not concrete, it’s more difficult to actually get it done.

And when you have one thing to do, one work-thing anyway – it becomes the thing you have to do. It can become a burden, something you dread doing, the thing that hangs over you ominously.

Even if you love it.

Many full-time writers and part-time writers address this by still having lots to do: doing the promotional/finance/admin stuff, doing copy-edits on one book when not redrafting another, or vice-versa. But there are still long chunks of time where writing – just writing – is the one thing that needs to be done. It has to be done.

Now, writing has to be done when you’re under contract, regardless of the amount of time you have in your life to do it. It has to be done if you want to finish something, polish something. But if it has to be done to keep a roof over your head . . .

There are more than enough ways of putting yourself and your writing under pressure without adding that to the mix.


Day jobs and writers (1)

by clairehennessy

“Solitude never hurt anyone. Emily Dickinson lived alone, and she wrote some of the most beautiful poetry the world has ever known… then went crazy as a loon.”
The Simpsons

I like my day job. (Actually in large part an evening job, and really-and-truly more of an all-over-the-place job, but you know what I mean.)

Whoops, we’re not supposed to admit that, are we? True writers want to write ALL THE TIME. To have it as the absolutely-only thing that they have to do. To be a Full-Time Writer. That’s every writer’s ultimate goal, right?

I would be quite happy to never be a full-time writer. I said something to this effect ten years ago, when my first book came out and I was an ickle thing, and honestly, truly – there are a lot of things I still agree with Younger Me on, when it comes to this issue.

There are a number of things I’m going to say about this (there shall be a post every day this week! I’m going blog-crazy!), but the first is the obvious-and-yet-often-forgotten fact that full-time writers aren’t full-time writers in the same way that full-time whatevers aren’t really full-time. There’s still laundry to do and things to be cleaned or cooked or taken care of or whatever. You still have to go to the supermarket or mind the kids or feed the cat; you still have a bunch of everyday things to do. And it’s obvious, of course, but it’s amazing the sense you get from people who talk dreamily about full-time writeriness, like it’s full-time writeriness with several staff attached. There’s still all the non-writing parts of Being A Writer, the admin/promotion/finance side of things. There’s still life. Life is still there to get in the way.

All writers are something else. All anythings are something else. They’re daughters/sons/nieces/nephews, friends/lovers/exes, mothers/fathers/aunts/uncles/cousins/godparents. They’re on a local sports team or they’re part of a choir or they’re helping out a friend with a film or they’re organising a family get-together or they’re going down to the pub for a pint or five. They’re watching boxsets of Desperate Housewives or The Wire or they’re rooting for a player at Wimbledon or a team at the World Cup.

People talk about wishing they had ‘nothing else to do but write’ as though it’d instantly relieve them of any other commitments they have. For 99.999% of people, their day job is not the one solid thing standing in the way of their writing. It is not the one thing that sucks up their time or their energy, although it can suck up an awful lot of it. But it’s not the only thing in their life. And removing it isn’t going to put their life on hold so that they can write their masterpiece completely uninterrupted.

For most people, though certainly not everyone, it’s not time that’s the problem. It’s time management.


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