Writing for a Living Sucks Part I: Print
Every young writer like you, my friend, dreams of getting rich and famous through his art. A writer who claims he isn’t doing it for the possibility of fame and fortune isn’t much different from a blogger who claims he’s not doing it for the attention: they’re both lying curs. Oh, yes, it’s about fame and fortune. I’m not saying that the need for self-expression isn’t a big part of it, but the overpowering desire for wealth and recognition is as much an incentive as the desire to make art. Who wouldn’t want to have more money than he can spend? Who wouldn’t want teenagers lining up to suck his cock like it was the golden rod of Jehovah? You may go to bed with an empty belly, but it is your dream of being a fucking rockstar that feeds your heart, isn’t it?
The sad fact, though, is that writing for a living sucks. The hungry young writer isn’t hungry because it’s cool. He’s hungry because he can’t sell shit. Every young writer, at one point, has heard of this. Every young writer, at the back of his mind, knows that this is true. Yet you stubbornly refuse to accept this. You think that that one in a jillion chance of actually getting a break and becoming successful through it is yours by destiny.
Others take a more realistic approach towards their desire to make a living as a writer. They get day jobs in call centers and other such places as devoid of art as my perpetually grimacing asshole, thinking that this is just a stepping stone; a rung in the ladder that would lead to their dreams.
Let’s take a look at your chances from an objective point of view, shall we not?
You write poetry. And short stories. And vignettes. And essays. You may even be working on that best-selling novel of yours that would enlighten the world about the true state of the human condition. Good for you. Now, think about this: who the fuck would want to read them? I look around me and I don’t see any arthouse bohemians frolicking about like butterflies on an acid trip. I see pedicab drivers, fish sellers, government employees, construction laborers, maids, factory workers, and others of that ilk. You won’t sell that collection of poetry, good sir. You’re better off writing horrible romance novelettes that Inday likes reading so much. That shit sells, man.
But not much. Usually, a publishing house would hire you to write two of those pocketbooks that I wouldn’t even wipe my ass with. You have to submit your manuscripts within a month’s time, after which they’ll pay you about seven or eight thousand pesos. Way after. Like when they get around to publishing and distributing them. They won’t even give you complementary copies, so don’t even bother asking about royalty. I know eight thousand pesos a month doesn’t grow on trees, man, but it’s not much either. You’ll be better off in a call center. They even have dental plans, if you can dig that.
You think: eight thou a month wouldn’t be so bad if I can get a writing assignment from one of those glossy magazines too. You’d be right if you’re shallow enough to appreciate a whopping two thousand pesos as additional income. You won’t even get that within the same month that you finished your article. Magazine pre-production starts at what, two months before the issue is published? That means your piece would get printed about two months after you’ve submitted it. You’d since be long dead from starvation to be able to appreciate your byline.
Never mind fame and fortune. If you really want to make a living as a writer, then print is not the answer. What you really want to get into is something that everyone consumes every single day. Something that has a semblance of gainful employment and steady income. Something so bad there’s no way in this thrice-blessed earth that it can’t sell.
Television.
NEXT
Writing for a Living Sucks Part II: Television
Carl Said,
January 14, 2007 @ 8:02 am
You have my sympathies. Writing never sells, IT BITES. I know a lot of writers starving out there, with their works getting mouldy in the shelf.
But I gotta hand it to ya, I LOVE your style. The way you inject irony, sarcasm, wit, and black humor in your entries; it hits direct to the point… and it HURTS!
Not to mention that your command of the vernacular is superior to the average blogger (trolls, stickies, and TxTrs included). Y’know, I’d KILL to write like that.
You, sir (like the other TMB bloggers and Luis Buenaventura), is what Pinoy cyberspace needs. Sorry, I’ve just ran out of ideas, so I can’t finish this “thesis statement”. Dang!!
Hazel Said,
January 14, 2007 @ 9:17 am
hmm interesting solution to writer’s block…
well the market for fiction is really small…i guess most of the serious (but non-household name) fiction writers later on find out that in order to survive as a full-time writer, they would have to write non-fiction articles and only write/sell fiction as a hobby… only a handful of people are lucky enough to write fiction and really earn money…as for non-fiction writing, i think it’s easier for an expert in a certain industry to become a full-time writer, esp if his expertise is in tech stuffs…
you write for tv, right squid? looking forward to Part 2 of this post…
Olive Said,
January 14, 2007 @ 12:54 pm
C’mmon Squid, I totally agree with you but your black ink is in danger of not only diminishing whatever left of the little spark of white hope, we – other aspiring writers like me - have, to run and roll with the first kilometer of lyrical stuff off our heads and hearts into those creamy pages which we all know no one will ever really read besides a handful of our friends and relatives… and yet I still want to believe that even though I’ve sold a part of my soul and sanity by working for big brother and is now currently a call girl, there will be a time when you and I and the rest of those who are brave enough to go forth and dare to grab the bull by it’s golden horn, will, in fact, make it to the end of the line… until the next line flows through our being…coz no matter how long and how hard the journey becomes, writing (like breathing) is a process and not a product. You sell whatever it is you need to sell to survive but, it is all about becoming. So, go ahead and spread that black ink of yours not only in the blogging world… I believe in you, man. Thanks for rocking and rolling still.
By the way…I’m thinking of getting back in the tube so lemme read the next part of this tirade.
Carlo Said,
January 14, 2007 @ 4:37 pm
Kids don’t read anymore and the teachers don’t set them right. Makes you yearn for corporal punishment in our scool system, doesn’t it?
Carlo Said,
January 14, 2007 @ 4:39 pm
School system. Looks like I need to take typing lessons again.
Lynette Said,
January 15, 2007 @ 3:39 am
True. Lots of good writers (and poets) out there who need a dayjob, writing…say…pharmaceutical ads because there’s very little demand for the artsy-fartsy kind of writing. Sad, but true.
I am envious of best-selling authors who earn more with a novel than I ever did after five whole years of teaching HUNDREDS of students and checking MOUNTAINS of scripts and quizzes and essay exams. FIVE. WHOLE. YEARS.*rant rant rant*
But the people I really admire are the writers (and artists) who write for the sake of the craft. Take William Blake. He didn’t give a shit if he never made money off his poems and paintings.
Then again, most of the artists/writers I know who can afford to have that kind of attitude are those who were born to rich families or those who happen to marry very rich, very old men (preferably those one life support.)
But what of the average aspiring writer who has parents who are neither Ayalas or Zobels? In the words of Jonas Diego:
“Me artist. Me very hungry. Please hire me.”
Personally, I write poems because I like writing poems. Maybe some day they’ll sell, but looking at the current market, slim chance. But that doesn’t stop me from writing.
Kaya para hindi ako mamatay sa gutom, magsho-showbiz ako. Pwede kaya akong mag-artista? Ahahahahahahahaaaaa!
Lynette Said,
January 15, 2007 @ 3:42 am
*blink* napahaba ata comment ko. soweee. :D
Randy Said,
January 15, 2007 @ 5:29 am
Whoa, seven comments kaagad? What, did I hit the motherlode? Would you guys pay to read me now? No? Okay.
Anyway, I’m not going to answer anyone’s comment right now because there’re two more parts in this otherwise very long post. Glad you kids dropped by. Watch out for the next two parts later, practice safe sex, and for godsakes, wear sunscreen.
Lynette Said,
January 15, 2007 @ 7:45 pm
You hit a raw nerve, Bohemian. That’s why. :D (Put out a book, sell it for under P300 and I’ll buy it. I’ll even ask you for an autograph. Of course mommy would not approve, but that’s okay.)
Randy Said,
January 16, 2007 @ 6:06 am
One down. Eighty million to go. I’m gonna be a ROCKSTAR!