It’s something of a cliché that writers don’t make any money. Of course, it is a myth, because plenty of writers out there are rolling in their millions, guaranteed a new bestseller regardless of the quality or standard of the prose.
Then again, that probably accounts for 1% of writers, maybe even fewer. Writing as a ‘career’ is one to shy away from, a hobby that grows out of control. ‘You’ll never make any money,’ people say. ‘What if it doesn’t work out?’
I just want to provide a little bit of context so this whole thing seems more legitimate–I’m a 20-year-old writer studying for a degree in English with Creative Writing at university. I’ve wanted to write for as long as I can remember, prose fiction being the area that has always appealed to me. But writing seemed to have something of a celebrity status as I went through my teenage years–my dream seemed to fade away the more I realised that becoming a ‘successful writer’ is just as lucky a break as, say, a successful actor. It isn’t just a case of writing a good story.
At first, the realisation scared me. It terrified me, in fact–now my career of choice was pretty much off the list, what did I try? Journalism was, and probably still is, an option. I wrote for a few music websites, and as much as I loved my time there, the world of fiction still called my name. I thought about a few other potential career paths: teaching, criminal psychology, etc. But still, it was my stories that gave me the most pleasure.
It seems my stories give others the most pleasure, too. Not to sound big-headed, but I always performed well in creative writing tasks at college, and I always got the most gratification from being told ‘your story is good’ than any other ‘good marks’ in other subjects. For somebody to compliment my construction…that’s the ultimate compliment.
So, to cut a few years short, I pursued a degree in English with Creative Writing and found myself writing and publishing a few short stories. Something in the Cellar is one of those stories. I also wrote What We Saw, my debut novel, from late-2010 to mid-2012.
The thing is, writing these stories haven’t made me a lot of cash. Sure–I’ve made a nice sum through crowdfunding, and some would argue that it’s not bad to have a hobby that earns me ‘cash on the side’.
However, that’s not how I view things. Sure, it’d be nice to have a job where I’m earning £100,000 per year, but would I be as happy in that job as I am in writing? I can almost guarantee I wouldn’t be.
We only live once. What do we really want from life? A nice, hefty sum of cash? Or to actually live it, to do those things our body and our soul cry out for us to do?
I’m not slagging off those in good jobs earning lots of money. You’ve earned your position through hard work. That’s exactly what I want to do with my writing–earn a position. If it takes twenty years to make any sort of cash, then so be it. I’ll be happy doing it, and as long as I have the money to eat and to, well, live, I’ll be content.
Write for pleasure, not for the pennies. That way, the pennies will come, eventually. Follow your muse and whatever it is you want to do in life, do it. You only get one shot, so if you have some stories to tell, get telling them! I know I will.
Why do you write? What motivates you? Have you always wanted to write?
Image courtesy of jjpacres via Flickr
Sounds like you have a good view things, Ryan. I wish I’d been half that realistic when I was 20. I do have the job making good money, but I’m absolutely miserable in my work. I know I was born to write. I’ve been honing my craft in earnest for 30 years now, since i was 16. Back in those early days all you could do was write your stories and send them by mail to an editor and wait a month or two to hear how bad you sucked. However, if I’d had all the technology available to me then that I do now, I probably would have rushed stuff to self-publication that wasn’t ready. I don’t feel like I’ve wasted the past three decades because it made me work harder, and now I’m getting to a point where people are recognizing my craft. It also helped me find and perfect my niche. Yes, there have been days of discouragement and disappointment. The key is to learn from those experiences without becoming cynical. Don’t let go of the hope. When I was 20 I think I was more enamored of having a celebrity writer’s lifestyle with lots of money, etc. Now, like you, I would be content to just make a living solely off my writing. I still cling to the hope that the hard work will one day pay off and I will be able to view myself as a success but not necessarily from a financial perspective. I believe I am finally getting a peek at what lies on the other side.
Cheers for the insight, Will. I’m glad to hear things are going well for you now on the writing front. I’m certain you’ll be a better writer for honing your craft over the years, that’s for sure.
Sometimes to dream of being a ‘bestseller’ sneaks into all of our thoughts, sure, but it’s important to stay grounded. Good luck with your future projects–through perseverance, I’m sure we will all reach that place we want to reach.
This is a good thing for people to keep in mind–especially now that self publishing is becoming so accessible. I think a lot of new self published authors have dreams of becoming the next John Locke or Joanna Penn…but the ones who reach that level are few.
The important thing is to not get discouraged by low sales. There’s a dangerous lure with self publishing: it’s so accessible that people (myself included, I admit!) assume that selling tons of books is also easy. It isn’t. But you have to bite down and bear it…it’s easy to want to give up, but if you keep writing, you’re doing what you want to do, and money shouldn’t matter.
I think you raise a great point, James–it’s very important not to get discouraged by low sales. The key to success is shelfspace, or having more books out there to spread the digital footprint.
Sounds like you have a good take on things–if you love writing, keep on writing. The rewards can come later.
Writing for the sake of writing may be a fashion that one wears as a new outfit, or the latest style. Or it may be a cathartic that wears out too soon after the steam is vented and the worn suit appears less appealing. One may have a story to tell. Perhaps the essence is novel, the delivery outstanding, the plot twisted beyond recognition, the characters lustrously blinding in their motives, desires and goals, but overall, you, the author, may feel the story is moving slowly, too slowly. It needs a push, some imaginative quirk, perhaps a precipitous drop of an automobile over a sheer cliff into the darkness of the waters below…whatever…the author must go on until the final thought is planted and developed and blossomed. This, is a story, its heart and soul, its fiber and mettle, its meaning to the reader, who will determine its worth.
My experiences are, I believe, able to foster enough material from which I could compose a story or stories. My own interests and background relevantly would be the primary source. My doubts are that I could convincingly write to make someone believe that they are not reading words but are feeling thoughts, ideas, walking the paths with me, gaining entrance into the hearts of others, seeing their motives, their disappointment, thrills and anticipations. You see, writing may be like selling not only a piece of furniture, but furnishing a whole house and then comparing that house with your neighbors’ houses. That is the interesting ingredient.
And that is all for now.; Thank you for listening.
I started writing because I didn’t find anything to read. So I write for myself – I really don’t care about the readers who read what I write. It’s not worth writing for money, because most people read shit.
All people know how to read, but most people don’t understand what to read, so they end up reading crap which is promoted by local magazines and newspapers.
I won’t sell my skill for money, unless they give me money for my skill.
I have always felt that need to write but have been reticent, hesitant, and doubtful if it would be taken in the right way. Never the ability to write was in doubt,, but a sensitivity to others’ needs was. Or should I say the confidence to satisfy others may have been lacking. Or confidence in myself may have held me back. Whatever, it is true that if you wish to write you should write, write and write some more. Then let the letters fall where they may.