I Can’t Help You in the Least

Skills group. Basket making, hide smoking, fire starting, and just being

The other day Penny ran into a friend, someone who’s been tracking the flurry of media coverage pertaining to my Outside article and the release of Home Grown. “Well,” said her friend, “at least now you’ll be able to buy a new truck.” And Penny laughed, because that’s not actually how it works. At all.

For nearly 20 years, the financial support for my family and myself has come via my writing. For most of those 20 years, I wrote for magazines, primarily as a freelancer, although in a couple of instances as a contracted contributor. For instance, I served as eastern editor at SKIING magazine for a half-dozen or so years until the big bad recession made everyone’s palms go sweaty and caused them to dump about half their staff, including yours truly. Let me tell you, that was a pretty swell gig while it lasted. I skied a lot and I got to write about skiing a lot, and I got paid for both. It was ridiculous, really, and even though I’m no longer drawn to lift-service skiing (too crowded, too mechanized, too much driving), I sort of miss the job.

For about the first 15 years of my so-called career, I never imagined writing a book. But one of my favorite things about life is the way things you never could have imagined happening happen. Now, I’m pretty much a book author, though I make some money speaking. We make a little money off the land. Lately, I’ve made a little scratch via the generosity enabler icon, located in the right hand margin of this screen for your utmost convenience. And since I put up the consulting page, I’ve done four consultations, running the gamut from immersion learning, to the business of writing, to homestead design and implementation. Tell you the truth, I liked having those conversations more than I thought I might.

The funny thing about writing books is that while a book immediately grants you a certain degree of credibility, the money’s not nearly as good as what I made when I was magazine writing. During the apex of my freelance magazine years, I actually made a respectable middle class income. But it took me about a dozen years to get there, and it really only lasted two or three years before I realized I’d rather write the books I’d only recently never imagined myself writing.

The central difference between magazine writing and book authorship is that when you write for magazines, you get paid according to what the magazine pays. You’re essentially a hired gun. Most of the magazines I wrote for (and occasionally still write for) paid between $1 and $2 per word, which of course is why I tend toward run-on sentences and a lot, and I mean a whole bunch, a real awful lot, a tremendous amount, really, of repetition in my writing, the written word I put to paper, or more accurately to the screen, but in either case, I’m talking about getting paid by the word, which I’m not now, so I’ll end this sentence here. But when you write books, you’re much more subject to market forces determining your actual value. Apparently, my actual value as an author works out to about $2 per hour. I’m hardly exaggerating. Actually, if anything that’s on the high side, and it occurs to me that on an hourly basis, I could make more money milking cows for Jimmy or Melvin. Of course, there’s the thorny issue of the indisputable fact that I’m far too soft to milk cows for a living. But you get the point.

So, yeah, the recent flurry of media coverage did exactly nothing to impact our immediate financial situation. Well, maybe not nothing: I’ve gotten a few speaking requests, and no doubt the consults I’ve done are at least in part a result of this coverage. But a new truck? Hardly. Maybe a few tanks of diesel, though, and by gum, I’m grateful for that. Maybe even a pair of Truck Nutz, if only Penny would allow.

One of the things I’m slowly learning is to be a bit less shy about promoting myself and my work. It took an awful lot for me to put up that consulting page, let me tell you. A whole awful lot.  Clearly, I’m not shy in general, but I am pretty self-conscious about claiming expertise. This is probably because I’m generally pretty leery of those who hold themselves up as experts. It’s not that I never seek council from those who know more about a particular field than I do. Actually, this happens all the time, given the many gaps in my knowledge. But I’ve observed that the most experienced and knowledgeable people generally don’t go around telling everyone how experienced and knowledgeable they are. I’ve observed that the people who are actually the most capable of helping others don’t go around telling everyone how much they can help. No doubt there are exceptions to this rule.

Anyway. This is gone on long enough and besides, I really have to go. There’s a knock at the door and I’m pretty sure it’s our daily lobster and caviar delivery. Oh, and if you’re interested in a consultation, know this: I probably can’t help you in the least.