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“What are your writing goals? Do you want to write a book?”
A new virtual, turned in-person, friend asked nonchalantly during my first ever writing conference last fall.
I didn’t know how to respond. Amidst others’ chatter about book proposals and published articles and blog statistics, I already felt like an outsider looking in, wondering where I belonged as a young professional who blogged on the side. After all, I was only a year out of college and early on my professional career. Writing was more than just a hobby, but definitely was not my job.
“I don’t know yet. I know that I am called to write, but I also think I’m called to have a career outside of writing, at least for this season of my life,” I responded, hoping that I wouldn’t get shunned from the writers’ tribe for lack of a five-year plan for my writing.
My friend jumped in, explaining how if I really wanted to be a successful writer, I had to “really want it, to really commit 100%.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut, touching on every insecurity I have as a writer.
With that one swing, I felt the bile of anxiety and fear and tension bubble up to the surface. The anxiety that I’m not doing enough. The fear that I’ll never be as cutting edge as so-and-so or as poetic as so-and-so. The tension between working 40+ hours a week in a completely unrelated field that’s intellectually stimulating and financially rewarding on top of the 30+ hours a week I spend writing in the early mornings and late nights.
My friend likely didn’t mean it this way, but all I heard was, “You don’t have what it takes to be a real writer.” Apparently if I did, then I’d be pursuing writing full-time. Of course, the ultimate goal would be to publish a book. And therefore I’d be drafting proposals and revising my manuscript and scoping out agents instead of working full-time at a consulting firm.
Telling me that I needed to commit full-time to writing if I wanted to be successful was the writer’s equivalent of telling a working mom that she isn’t a full-time mother because she doesn’t stay home.*
Even though I doubted my friend’s confident assertion, it wasn’t easy to shake off.
When a group of writers and bloggers grabbed dinner one night after the conference, I began to panic that my friend was right. As we took turns introducing ourselves by our names, Twitter handles, and blog URLs, I realized that most of my friends around the table were full-time writers who had quit their previous jobs to write. Of those whom had children, they were also the primary stay-at-home parent — even a couple men at the table.
The message I gleaned from the writers’ conference was that not only would I have to quit my job to be a successful writer, but I would also likely become the primary caregiver if/when my husband and I have children.
As a young, ambitious, feminist woman and wife, this message terrifies me.
I’ve worked hard to pursue my career goals and am continually pushing myself to excel in my professional life. And while my husband and I are not yet ready for children, it is likely that I will continue to work even when little ones are in the picture. I know that I am a better person, wife, and writer precisely because I am able to use my gifts and skills in the workplace, and I don’t want to give that up.
I also don’t want to give up writing.
But here’s the thing: I don’t believe mothers stop being mothers when they step into the office, just as part-time working moms aren’t only 50% committed to parenting. Calling stay-at-home moms “full-time” mothers not only diminishes the value of working moms’ contributions outside the home, but it also ignores the reality that most parents need to work to support their families.
I believe it is the same with us writers and bloggers and storytellers.
There are different roles and callings for our writing according to our gifts and preferences.
Some of us are called to write as a profession, and that may mean taking the leap of faith to quit our jobs to pursue writing full-time. But my hunch is that many of us either don’t have the option to do so and/or are called to a different profession while also writing seriously along the way.
At this juncture in my life, I am called to do both. I know that I may not always have the energy, let alone the capacity, to work a combined 70+ hours a week working in an office and writing on the side. All I know is that I have a voice and a story that God wants me to share. And that’s all I really need to know for now.
Do you want to be a full-time writer? How do you balance writing with the rest of your life?
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* I acknowledge and respect all types of parenting styles and structures and know what there is an increasing amount of stay-at-home-dads. However, SAHDs do not (yet) experience the mess that is the mommy wars.
[Photo: MyVisualPoetry, Creative Commons]