Writing and Vocational Awe

Being a writer—like being a painter, teacher, or librarian—is the sort of job that sounds great in theory, but in practice is often burdened by all sorts of (externally illegible) downsides.

The idea of just jotting words all day, no concerns beyond building your little worlds and sharing ideas you think are interesting and important (with folks who appreciate the same) can feel romantic and aspirational, then, but such a lifestyle isn’t without its flaws.

Because of the way the publishing industry (in its many facets and manifestations) operates, for instance, the average writer can expect to make a relative pittance from their words. While there are enough mega-success stories to keep the dream alive, most professional writers will struggle to earn as much as their office-dwelling (or package-delivering, or grocery-bagging) peers.

The modern publishing industry is, by seeming necessity (but possibly just technological or economic expediency) optimized around hits, so a sparse few people will make it big—beyond big, for an even scantier few—while essentially everyone else makes less than they need to pay rent, much less buy a house, pay their children’s college tuition, and so on.

Despite these monetary realities, though, people continue to write, and to imbue the process with at times almost religious significance.

The term “vocational awe” refers to the tendency we have to revere certain professions (and those who perform them), and it was a PhD student/librarian/writer who coined the term to refer to the near-sacred status her profession seems to have attained, and how this assumption of sainthood for those who ascend to the lofty (and well-educated) heights of librarianship often serves as an excuse for higher-ups in that field to not pay their underlings a living wage.

Under our current economic paradigm, different industries offer different payouts to folks who perform valuable labor; that’s to be expected.

The idea that because someone does interesting, moral, and/or creatively fulfilling work they shouldn’t be paid appropriately (and in fact maybe deserve to be paid less, because many people don’t get to feel good about the work they do in exchange for money) is nonsense, though, as it suggests that we should have our pay docked if we decide to pay our bills by doing work we’re passionate about.

Right or wrong (I would argue wrong, but I suppose I’m biased), because of the nature of the industry, it tends to be assumed that if you’re a writer (someone who gets to do this wonderful thing for a living) the money situation will generally not be great.

There’s a chance you’ll manage to reach the top fraction of a fraction of a percent of sales-related success for a book you write, but even authors who make the New York Times (or comparable) bestseller list usually can’t make a full-time living off just their books: they do freelance work, they give talks, they run side-hustles, they sell the rights to their work for TV shows and films.

The actual numbers vary substantially based on the book itself, the genre, the method of publication (indie, Big Five publisher, small press, online only), and countless other variables, but the vast, vast majority of writers—of any kind—struggle monetarily.

Authors struggle because the money is usually not great (when it’s on offer to begin with), freelancers struggle because a lot of their time is spent finding new clients (some of who will low-ball them) and chasing down payments from previous clients, and folks who work as copywriters often have trouble making time for their own work amidst all the job-related things they’re writing and re-writing; the pay is generally more consistent and less-insulting than other pro-writing options, but some of the benefits of being paid to write for a living are tempered by the nature of the position.

This is one of the first things I tell people who ask me about pursuing a career in writing, because the unfortunate truth is that, statistically, you’re probably either going to need a hybrid career of some sort (writing alongside other stuff), or you’re going to need to be some combination of super-niche and super-lucky (you can also be famous, which is a tried-and-true way of shortcutting through all sorts of career paths, if you can figure out how to achieve stardom before seeking out a book deal).

None of this should stand in your way if you love writing, love books (or other types of publications), and want to spend the rest of your life stringing words together in interesting, educational, and entertaining ways.

We all benefit from more voices being encoded and shared in writerly mediums, and there’s never been a better time to be a writer in terms of the tools and communities available—both for doing the writing itself and for sharing whatever it is you come up with.

The money side of this space is worth understanding, though, so that if you decide you want to write professionally you can set appropriate expectations ahead of time and do your best to balance out those industry shortcomings.