The odds are stacked so high against most authors, it’s a wonder any of us keep at it. I’m writing this upon finding out my book Send a Girl! The True Story of How Women Joined the FDNY did not win the Garden State Book award. It lost to Battle of the Butts, which, based on it’s huge amount of positive reviews, I am sure is a hilarious and educational gem, and at the same time I think, really? But I’m not here to knock someone else’s work, or win, truly, I’m only wondering if I will ever have one again. Send a Girl! has always felt like the biggest chance at something great, but it’s also been three years since it came out and I still haven’t received a single royalty check.
I remind myself, however, I have received so many incredible emails and messages from firefighters. Most of them women, but not all. Award or not, that does mean a lot to me. It also reminds me to always tell artists when I appreciate their work, because it really does help us keep going, especially when it seems like the most of the world has no idea we, or our books, exist.
I never set out on this course to be famous, or rich. I set out on it because I love writing and wanted to see if I could get published. So, I guess by all counts, I did exactly what I set out to do! But, like most ambitious people, now I want more. And it is difficult when peers seemingly knock it out of the park over and over. Seemingly, being key. I know most have had just as circutus a route as I, social media is but a snippet, and we all feel like we’re treading water from time to time.
Writing Send a Girl! was such an inspiration to me. In its most basic message, it’s a reminder of how hard women have worked before me to simply have—and keep—the job they want. As I gear up (at least mentally) for an eventual switch into full-time work, a large part of me feels defeated. I could not make my work support me, despite how much I have hustled. I didn’t reach the ultimate goal of full-time writer. Does that make me a quitter? Have I not pushed myself enough? I don’t really know. But I know I’m tired. I think nearly twenty years of dedicated writing should equal financial security, but it simply does not. I do not get to have—and keep—the job I want, despite decades of women fighting because systems are still systems. Sometimes corroded by overt discrimination, racism, ageism, and sexism, and sometimes simply inequitable operations. Sometimes it’s just bad luck. More often probably all of the above. That’s a lot to fight to keep your head above water.
These days I question everything. Because of the traumas of the last several years, I no longer have any tolerance for bullshit. Everything in my life has been pared down to what’s the most important thing today. People try to make plans with me and my brain just doesn’t function that way anymore. We will see, is my usual answer. And cutting the bullshit makes me question the writing life as well. I question whether or not to keep working with an agent after several un-housed projects, and whether or not to keep trying to publish at all because traditional is demoralizing and going at it alone is too expensive to sustain.
And the biggest question of all: What do I actually want to write?
That’s all that really matters. And I have no idea what the answer to that is. I miss the thrill of discovery in a first draft, and working with editors who are stoked about my story. But I don’t have the time required to get lost in fiction anymore, and I don’t have any contracts, so I keep reviving old projects for new pathways, writing terrible personal essays, and journalling while continuing to promote the books that are out there the best I can. Maybe for now that’s enough, maybe that’s how one keeps going.
All this to say, if you’ve ever felt like you’re swimming upstream, I feel you. I question if I’ll even recognize that I’m no longer struggling, should the struggle end. Will I trust security if I ever find it? Will I know what to do with myself if my life isn’t taken over by some kind of crisis? If I ever land the full-time position, will I know how to stop shapeshifting?
We will see.
I love ALL these thoughts Jess! The real, the inspiring, the gritty…
I totally feel you on everything you said here.