March 29th, 2019

Rage! (about money and assumptions)

Last night, I was honoured to participate in the graduation gala for the University of Toronto Master in English in the Field of Creative Writing. I was delighted by the range and talent of the 7 students about the graduate from the program–I am mentoring one of them, so I know all about her fantastic work, but this was my first time hearing from the other 6. What a treat–so much richness and humour and joy in their words. I’m so excited for them to publish (publish more, in some cases) so the world can see what they have going on. I was also delighted to read for them, and to hear Leanne Shapton read from Adam Penn Gilders work in the presentation of the scholarship bearing his name. All in all, a wonderful evening.

Which made it a little easier to bear that today I’m using a precious vacation day to a) take an unpleasant medical test and b) do my taxes. I’m simply swamped these days and there wasn’t any other time for these things. And the day is going ok–it’s sunny and going to the medical place meant I wasn’t indoors all day, I bought myself a nice takeout lunch, and I’m still riding the high from last night.

Anyway, and then someone said something mean to me and I interrupted eating my nice sushi to fly into a rage I still haven’t fully come down from. I probably won’t ever fully rebut the individual who said it to me–it’s not worth it–but since I was planning a gentler post about money and writers and reality versus assumptions, here is the amped up rage version:

I AM MY OWN PATRON!! By which I mean, the way I write what I write is that I work a full-time job in order to feed and house myself, and from within the comfort of that lifestyle, afforded to me by me, I write my books. I recognize the incredible privilege of my position–that I have the health and skills and sheer good fortune to be able to do it this way, and I also recognize that it may not go on forever. I could find myself unable to earn the salary I currently do any longer and need to work more hours to keep myself housed and fed, squeezing out the writing, or my health could worsen or other responsibilities could amp up, making the two careers I balance now unsustainable.

Also, no shade on other forms of patronage–if there were anyone else who could sustainably support me while I write, I would be happy to go with that. When I see other folks who have such a system in their lives, I’m mainly legit happy for them, and only a little envious. There are so many ways to make it work, and I honestly don’t think any of them are all that easy–even when it looks easy to me, I assume there’s a lot I don’t know. I try to be incredibly respectful of anyone who is finding a way to get words on the page and be alive at the same time. It’s naive, maybe, but I would like the same respect back in return.

I am grateful for every penny I’ve ever earned from my writing, which is not to say I feel undeserving–I DID earn those pennies, and I think I deserved them very much. I like having them. And I do earn money from writing, and I love having and it makes a difference to me both financially and emotionally–as I do my taxes and fill out the self-employment part, it’s important to me that this writing thing is a business to me and I’m tidily toting up my income and deductions. I like it.

However, it’s just not that much–these aren’t life-sustaining pennies. There is no city in Canada where I could live on what I make as a writer–not even close. If I ceased to be my own patron, and no one else stepped up to take the gig I would…die of exposure or starvation, I guess. Which seems like an odd thing to do for someone who is perfectly capable of putting a roof over her own head through her own labour.

This is not because someone took something away from me or I’ve been ill-treated or deprived, at least not that I know of. It’s also not, insofar as I know, because I have made bad choices or been fiscally unsavvy or have not marketed myself appropriately… I mean, anyone’s welcome to send me suggestions and I will take them under advisement but I can only ever write the books I’m able to write. I do it to the best of my ability and the market pays what it’s going to pay. Mainly I’m grateful I get to write and have readers at all.

SO IT IS ENRAGING when people imply or SAY STRAIGHT OUT that I am greedy or lazy or not doing it right for not devoting myself to writing in some sort of purer way. I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN BY THAT, PEOPLE!! (Ahem, you know who you are, person who is definitely not reading this blog.) I have made a lot of sacrifices to make writing central to my life but I’m not actually willing to get rid of my cats and get a worse apartment and never take an actual non-tax-doing vacation again so someone can respect me more for not caring about money.

Oh my god.

I know, I know–my life is not that hard. But it’s also not that easy and I’m tired and I’m not really sure why anyone’s gunning for me to “not think about the money” when there’s so little money even available for me to not think about.

I like books. I think of those constantly. I’ll write another one eventually. It would be exactly the same book no matter what–or whether–anyone paid me.

Dammit.