The Writer's Dilemma

Do you admit that you’re a writer? If it’s in your job description I suppose you do, but for many of us being a writer presents us with a dilemma. Do you admit to your boss that you’re hoping to get paid for what you do off the clock?

I have a friend in the publishing industry whose employer has strict rules about such things. Any “employment” that takes away from work time has to be declared in written form and sent to the office that investigates conflict of interest. If you’re a writer who’s paid to do something else you can already see where I’m going with this.

Inspiration doesn’t obey time-clocks. In fact, it almost always makes a mockery of them. When you’ve arrived at work and punched in (i.e., booted up your PC) does that story idea obediently bed down until 5 p.m.? Of course not. Even after you’ve dug into today’s business, it’s probably playing like muzak in the back corridors of your gray matter. It sometimes can’t wait until the lunch break to burst out.

What boss would be glad to hear that? Doesn’t it sound like a recipe for unproductive employees and incipient laziness? Boss’ll say “make bricks without straw,” and you’ll be basking in that metaphor. But those of us who write have a secret. We know that simple binaries aren’t half the story. We can do more than one task at a time.

Still, it’s dangerous to admit to the boss that you write. More often than not, the thought will be there that you could be using some of that “fluff time” for working a few extra hours. Make more money for the company. Take one for the team. That’s the way a non-writer thinks.

The writer has the dilemma: to say or not to say? We also have a bit of insider knowledge. Taking that few minutes offline during the course of the work day doesn’t hurt our performance. As writers know, it only enhances it.

Comments

Dusty

My, this thing is dusty. My fans—hi, Mom!—perhaps believe me to have perished in the pandemic. No, it was nonfiction’s fault. Since the pandemic began I’ve had two nonfiction books published and have written a third. With a nine-to-five job something’s got to give. Unfortunately it’s been fiction. Well, the groundhog didn’t see his shadow yesterday, so it must be safe to come out. I shuffled away the rejection notes and began submitting again. I’ve got a backlog of weird stories and maybe some new publishers have emerged? The thing is, don’t you just hate it when you’re in the mood to submit and some lit journal has its window for submissions firmly shut? My last story, “ The Hput, ” was published about three years ago. Oh, I’ve submitted since then, but with no traction. Well, it is winter. I’ve got a lot of stories lined up. I’ve been sending them out again, dreaming of making a dime at what I love doing best...

Creative Righting

Rejection of my writing is a rejection of my imaginative world. That’s why I was cheered by the acceptance of one of my stories this week. That makes number 31. I’ve been working on a lot of fiction lately, even as nonfiction book number 6 is going to press. The ideas are still there, and bizarre as ever, but publishing venues just aren’t welcoming. The other day I had lunch with a professor whose wife is also a professor. She just had her first novel published, and so he pointed me to her indie publisher. I went to their website to learn that they’re closed to submissions. I have to admit that my latest accepted story, “Creative Writing Club,” was probably given the green light because I know the editor. That seems like a pretty dicey way to get any notice, doesn’t it? You have to know the right people even in the low circulation world. My fiction is difficult to classify. It’s got speculative elements to it. ...

Patterns

There’s a pattern I’m noticing. For fiction publishers. Even if you aim low you’ll find it a struggle. Part of the reason is the pattern. Lots of websites list publishers. The smaller, hungrier presses either eventually close or get to a place where they require an agent to get in. That’s the kiss of death. Although my stories have won prizes, and been nominated for prizes, I can’t get an agent interested. I’ve queried well over a hundred, so the agent route is one of diminishing returns. This too is a pattern. Back to the smaller presses. I check many lists. What I write, you see, is highly idiosyncratic. It’s literary but it’s weird. Publishers don’t know what to do with it. If a smaller press published stuff like this, I’d find it. The pattern includes writers who never get discovered. Ironically, a number of editors of fiction literary magazines (mostly online) tell me they enjoy my wor...

K. Marvin Bruce

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