A Writing Reality
During my first year of university, one of my lecturers told
us eager novice writers that if we wanted to survive in the writing game [we held our collective breath in anticipation],
we had to have a second job that pays the bills. You know, something like
teaching, or events management, or bus driving.
Okay, he didn't advocate
for driving a bus (we were uni students, after all), although I do think this
would be a great job for observing humanity in all its nuances, which is easy for
me to say when I don’t have to put up with said humanity – except in small
groups, under controlled conditions.
What the lecturer was advocating for was an alternative or
parallel career path that earns regular cash because, as he explained, breaking
into the writing game is tough, and making a living from it can be even tougher
(first-time author with miraculously lucrative contracts excluded). There was a
moment of contemplative silence as our dreams were re-aligned with reality, and
then we went on with learning about our chosen craft.
This sage advice, while contradicting my romantic notions of
the writer as suffering artist, was good counsel, especially as I’m the kind of
person who likes her creature comforts such as having a roof over my head, a
car to get around in, and chocolate on demand. Of course, our lecturer wasn't only drawing from his own experiences as a writer, but was dipping into a long
tradition of writers who had/have ‘second jobs’. Not so strangely, many of these
writers choose to be teachers.
One of my all-time favourite short stories, We Are Nighttime Travelers, was written by Ethan Canin, a
writer-turned-medical doctor-turned-writer and teacher. There is an interesting
insight into Canin’s development as a writer and his thoughts on teaching
creative writing workshops here. What struck me when I first read We Are Nighttime Travelers, beyond the elegant prose that so
beautifully captured the characters, was the idea of a doctor, weary from a day
of assisting the sick, sitting down to write, and thereby create, a different
sort of balm; one for the soul of a reader.
Ah, there goes the romantic in me again. Yet it is interesting, this compulsion to write: the
infatuation with words, the obsession with story. Writers can have other jobs –
pressing, time-devouring ‘legitimate’ work – but they are secondary to the
creative imperative, even if it doesn't pay the bills… at this point in time.
And, truthfully – as a
writer friend told me – if a writer is to be successful, their creative work
must come first, and the bill-paying
job must always be second, even if that means dedicating just one hour of every
day to getting words on a page, and building from there.
When I read, sometime later, that Canin had given away
medicine to return to writing and had taken on a teaching role, it wasn't a
surprise. There is something to be said for the immersion that comes with
teaching creative writing in conjunction with producing your own work. It’s
like living inside a snow globe where every tiny, white flake is a story
falling around you, landing in your eyes, in your ears, on the tips of your
fingers. Some of those stories are beautiful; some are mediocre, some are
dreadful, but all of them are valuable as each one has something to impart or something
to teach, which can then be passed on to other writers to assist them on their
creative journey.
About that Second Job...
Teaching was something I tiptoed into after completing my
first degree, with the encouragement of that same lecturer who had added a dash
of reality to my writer’s dream, and I remember being terrified the first (20!)
time I took a class. Since then, I have stood in front of hundreds of students
to deliver lectures and lead tutorials, or worked one to one with student-writers,
while over the last few years, I've taken a creative writing program on the
road to engage with high schools students in regional areas. During all of this
teaching, three things have remained constant:
- Some writers, like elite athletes, are born to their craft – but they still need guidance.
- Dedication, hard work, practice/practice/practice, and meticulous editing elevates every writer.
- Writers need constructive, objective and honest feedback, even if it stings a little (or a lot).
And there is one other thing that has been consistent for me
throughout each encounter with students: they are my teachers as much as I am
theirs. Perhaps this is what draws writers into the workshop or classroom. Not
only are these spaces for introducing ideas and practicing skills, but they are
spaces where we – teacher and student – learn compassion, sensitivity, grace
and audacity. For the writer/teacher, our students keep us fresh and remind us
that the old is always new, the first time we meet it, as my conversation with
a Grade Seven student this week reveals:
Student: ‘Can we use mythology in
our story? Coz I’m totally in love with Medusa.’
Teacher: ‘Sure, as long as you put
an original spin on the story. Maybe you could
make it
contemporary.’
Student: ‘Contemporary?’
Teacher: ‘Set in the present.’
Student: ‘Oh right, yeah. I’m gonna
write about Medusa— in a nightclub!’
Will this be a great story? Maybe, or not, but it doesn't really matter. What’s important is that this student loves ideas and words and
story – they make her shine – and that she has a supportive environment where
she can express them. At the same time, I have the chance to encourage her, to
reassure her, and to share in her enthusiasm, which I take with me when I
approach my own writing. My ‘second job’, then, keeps me grounded, keeps me motivated and, of
course, pays the bills. More importantly, it allows me to be fully immersed in my craft
while encouraging aspiring writers to embrace and explore their own creative
practice.
Like to share a story about your second job, or your experiences as a CW teacher? Cool, please leave a comment below.
Happy writing, teaching and/or working!
Maria
