So You Married a Writer…

Being a writer is hard. It’s not a job for the easily-discouraged or thin-skinned.

Being the spouse of a writer is even harder, because you don’t get paid for it (assuming that the writer is being paid, which is not even close to being a sure thing). If you’re thinking of marrying a writer, following are some of the things you can look forward to…

You will learn to identify your spouse by the back of his/her head, because that it is the only part you will ever see.

You will learn to identify other writers simply by the odd monitor-induced sun tan they get on their faces.

When you’re with your children, you will watch SpongeBob over and over and over. When you’re with your spouse, you will read the latest draft of “Star Masters and the Fate of the Universe!” over and over and over.

You will learn that the third person in your marriage really is only a writing partner.

You will come to understand that your spouse thinks any day where a sale is made should be a national holiday, and cease to ask why.

You will be expected to learn that there is a difference between “I’m not listening,” and “I’m writing a story in my head,” although both are just blank looks.

You will come to understand that “I’m working,” may mean writing, doing research, or simply playing a game set in a similar universe as your spouse’s work-in-progress (also research), and you will realize that they all mean dinner is going to get cold–again.

You will wonder if you should check “desertion” on the divorce papers because your spouse is always in another universe.

You will take nothing from this experience because your next spouse will be a musician.

#SFWApro

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Writing is Like Marriage

I’m going to a wedding soon. You are the lucky recipients of my tangential thoughts thereon involving writing and marriage.

• Weaving separate lives into one narrative takes care and patience and the ability to listen to other voices.

• It takes a long time to get it right. And when you think you’ve finally mastered it, you’re wrong.

• There is nothing more joyful than celebrating the point of official recognition. The next day, the hard work starts.

• There will be bumps in the road. Keep driving.

• Do it right, and people will admire you. Do it wrong, and they will pity you. In the end, it only matters that you do it in the way that is true to you.

• If you ever think the work is finished, you’re finished.

• No matter what those ads say, this is the hardest job you’ll ever love.

• If you do it really well, you only have to do it once to last your entire lifetime.

#SFWApro

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That Was the Week that–Whew!

So it’s been an exciting week in my little corner desk of the universe. I’ve had a story go up on a Hugo-winning podcast (read by a Hugo winner), I sold a reprint, I had four other stories come back with less fanfare, another (for which I have had high, but unrealized, hopes for years) is due to be judged by another market at any minute, and I had a book giveaway on LibraryThing that was oversubscribed (i.e., more people requested it than there were copies available).* Given that I’ve had months go by without any of these events occurring, this is a whirlwind.

And yet, my life is essentially the same as a week ago. I am no more famous than I was (so far as I can tell), I am little richer than I was (nor will I be when I’m paid), and nobody’s called me to make a movie deal of my podcast story. I will admit that at the beginning of the week, with all of these events (most of which were predictable) ahead of me, I had high hopes that my time was now. And really, I’m old enough to know better.

This is not to say that my time is not yet to come, it is simply recognizing that fame, fortune, love, whatever it is you’re looking for, doesn’t simply crash down on you like a lightning bolt that gives you super-speed. This is a very difficult lesson to learn, because we don’t want to wait–we want our fame and fortune now.

When I was in school, I approached every date, every dance, every opportunity to meet girls as if it was my last. Not in a dashing, devil-may-care way, but in desperation. (I was not exactly the captain of the football team, if you see what I’m saying.) It wasn’t until I gained some perspective that I realized that things take time. The girl I was going to fall in love with was right there all along, but our relationship required time to develop into what it became, and still is.

So it’s okay to get all excited and think, “This is it! This is my big chance!” as long as you realize it won’t be your only chance. I have other stories out there, and maybe one of them will hit it big. Or maybe it’s the next story I write. I know a lot of writers who have been dying of despair in January and counting their award nominations in March. After all, J.K. Rowling was flat broke before “Harry Potter” hit.

On the whole, however, I’d prefer to avoid more weeks like this one. They’re exciting, but draining. If Steven Spielberg is going to call, I wish he’d just get it over with. Maybe I should check my messages…

… Okay, nothing. But tomorrow is another day… Hey, that’s catchy. I bet I could work that into a story.

 

*I have two other giveaways running on LibraryThing if you care to look.

#SFWApro

 

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Writing Is Like Love–Except When It Isn’t

Being a writer is like being in love with someone who doesn’t love you. Or maybe she does. Then she doesn’t. Sometimes you even break up over it. But when you do, it’s never about her, it’s always about you. Except it’s really about her. And you. Writing is like love; it’s very confusing.

When you’re a young writer (or lover, let us treat the two as interchangeable for our purposes, or this essay will be filled with parentheses), you don’t know how to treat the object of your desire with respect. You are at the outset of life, everything is shiny and new and will last forever. You have time for all of it. So you’re reckless, and perhaps careless, and you don’t pay attention the way you should to the details. And you get shot down. This is called “learning from life,” and it sucks. The worst part is that it never ends.

After some time, you learn to take that extra care, and along the way you learn that just because you think something is going fine, not everyone agrees. You have to take other people’s feelings into consideration. You may be the center of your own universe, but each of us can say the same, and each of us considers his feelings and his interests to be paramount. So you learn some more. It still sucks, but maybe a bit less, because you’ve been through it before.

Eventually, you have some success. You sell a story, or embark on a real relationship. You have learned to accommodate someone else. Here is where writing and love diverge. In writing, you have to accommodate lots of people (i.e., your fans). You’ll never please everyone, or even most people, but if you please enough, you can have a career. The more you please, the bigger your career. On the other hand, in love you need to concentrate on The One. (Please no, Matrix jokes. Or Lord of the Rings jokes. And yes, we could go on.) In love, if you try to please more than one person, you’re going to get slapped down harder than you did when you were young and naive.

And yet, contrary to logic (and what about life isn’t contrary to logic?), while writing and love diverge, they remain similar. You still, in the end, have to please yourself, even while you’re pleasing others. You’d think that pleasing yourself in love (get your mind out of the gutter) would be easier than in writing because there are fewer people involved; that’s not the case and we pretty much all know it. But if you don’t manage it, both will suffer. As will you.

There are those who say that writing is easier without love, and vice versa; each demands too much time to accommodate the other. That might be so, but without love, who would support you when the writing is hard and the sales are few? And without writing, how could you be yourself?

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