I spent a few years working in the oil and gas business, and
when people asked me what I did for a living, and I told them I was a landman,
the reactions ranged from confusion to boredom. Or the always fun joke, “You
mean, land-WOMAN?”
Now, when I tell people that I am a writer, inevitably the
reaction is very positive. People get excited, ask questions, and tell me how
lucky I am to be able to work from home. (And oh, they have a book they are
going to write, and could I look at it?)
But the reality of the writer’s life, which first prompted
me to change professions a few years ago, is that very rarely can the full-time
writer support themselves writing just what they want to write. Friends are shocked when I tell them that article I
wrote in blah magazine was not something I chose to write about. It was
assigned to me, with a word count and often, specific editorial direction. And
more often than not, isn’t what I would write if I had any say about it.
A few months ago I was assigned an article on getting back
in shape after having a baby. I don’t have any children, so I decided to ask
mothers who were friends of mine on social media to write about their
experiences with post-baby fitness. The response was overwhelming, and I was
struck by the unrealistic pressures many new mothers experience right after
having a baby.
I then interviewed the owners of yoga studios and gyms
around town and got some wonderful stories from them about their own struggles and
realizations about post-partum fitness. Most of the stories focused on the
mother’s need for emotional wholeness more than fitting back into their pre-pregnancy
jeans in six weeks. And if anything, these women often resented the media
pressure to “bounce back” like so many magazine celebrities immediately after
giving birth.
I tell you all that to say this: I didn’t get to write about any
of that. My editor wanted a 300-word article listing fitness centers
around town that offered post-baby fitness classes. And that is what I gave
her. And this story is the same story as so many other article assignments I’ve
had over the years.
That is what writing for hire is like. All the stories I
want to write remain mostly untold.
Years ago, when I got my first full-time job as a magazine
editor, one of my jobs was to interview emerging artists for a short column.
For most of the artists I interviewed, I had just 250 words to write about
their art and career. I was still a newbie, so I would spend 30 minutes to an
hour on the phone with every one of them collecting fascinating stories about
why they became artists, what they love about their craft, career setbacks and often,
many stories that were personal and that I knew were not meant for sharing.
I didn’t realize at the time how little of those interviews
would actually make it into the final piece. Each month as I struggled to cut
750 words down to 250, I learned how to find the essential truth and wonder
about every person’s story. It was a great but hard lesson. And I don’t think
anyone I have ever interviewed will ever understand how painful it is for me,
as the writer tasked with telling their story, to keep editing and cutting down
the story far past what I wish I could share. Or worse, I don’t even get to share the story I want to tell at all.
This is the writer’s life. I spend most of day writing about
things I don’t care about, or if I do care about them, I can’t write about them
in the way I would like. And for this privilege, I am asked to charge less than
what I am worth, wait months to be paid and sometimes not even get paid at all.
Many times I don’t get any feedback: “Great piece.” “Nice work.” or even “That sucks, please try again.” And some days,
like today, I find out something I wrote and am very proud of isn’t going to
run at all because of an editorial goof.
So why do I write? Some days I don’t know. Maybe it is the
naïve hope that one day, I will actually be able to support myself while
writing what matter most to me. (And some days I wonder what it is that even matters most to me. What would I write about if I could write about anything?) For now, I take comfort in the little
victories—the interview where I really connected with my subject, the chance to
tell someone’s story that needs to be told, or the opportunity to eat good
food and get paid to write about it.
Why do I write? I ask myself this question every morning.
I write
to connect with people, to understand them, and have the privilege of sharing
their stories. I write to connect with you, to understand you and to hopefully
have the privilege of writing something meaningful that touches you.
