One of Us

I hear people talking about how writing is a business and you should treat it as one. You should get up, go to work, get your words in, and meet all your deadlines. You should figure out what your audience wants, and give it to them. And yes, it is important to do the work, when you can. It is important to be face your fears and learn to overcome them.

I also hear people talking about how writing is art, and you need to give your whole self to it, pour yourself onto the page, that you need to stop caring about whether there will be an audience or if you will ever be paid a dime. Give your soul to others, and don’t care about the rest. (I think there is the secret promise here that if you don’t care about money, then you will get lots of it, but I’m not sure. Maybe I’m the only one who hears that).

The problem is that it’s messy, the relationship between art and business. Sometimes you write because you love writing, and you don’t care about getting paid. Sometimes you write because you are on deadline and you don’t know if you even like your book anymore. I suspect most writers vacillate between these two attitudes, and that is perfectly normal.

Sometimes I love my family so much I could fly. Sometimes I am burdened so much by my own mistakes and by the unhappiness radiating around me that I turn to anything else in my life that will help me feel better about myself. And that is perfectly normal. That is the human condition, soul-destroying and joyful sometimes at the same time.

My point here is that there is no one way to be a writer. You can treat it like a business and that might work for you some of the time. You can treat it like a dessert, a secret, hidden treat that you may or may not share with others. Both are valid ways of being a writer, and you will likely experience both in the course of your career. Welcome to humanity. Writing isn’t so very different from anything else that people do that gives them meaning—or doesn’t—in their lives. You’re one of us. You always were.