The Working Girl Trope

As of today, I’ve received my 4th paycheck with my new job. Yes, that’s right my inactivity online is a product of activity in real life, how ironic. I work with a small local publishing company and as a writer this is a dream, foot through the door, job. However, as much as I enjoy the experience I’m gaining, I’m slowly watching myself become the one thing I hate: a non-writing writer.

158330db4e7783d872613f30017c3f8eThe hardest things to do as a person is to disappoint yourself. The hardest thing to do as a writer is to simply ignore the craft. Really, it’s not for a lack of trying but reality has a funny way of ruining the fiction that I love. The inevitable truth of getting a job to pay the bills is that your life changes. You have to wake up earlier and adopt a grandma like sleep schedule (I went to bed at 8pm the other day guys, I’m only 22. What is that?) This sleep schedule interrupts with my ingrained nature of being nocturnal. The biggest problem with my new socially acceptable sleep schedule is that my writing patterns have been murdered by the exhaustion.

There’s this wonderful droll of the day between 1-4am, where the world is asleep and my stories are vivid in my head. No one to bother me, no phones to distract me, society slumbers while I write. Everything changed when the fire nation– when I became employed. I’m a walking cliché of artist who’s met capitalism and feel prey to the need for financial stability (or as little as I can get being a college grad and all).

Cliché or not, I’m not a complete soul sucking non-writing writer zombie. I’m just not as proactive as I was when I was unemployed and the whole point of this blog post is to share some small enlightenment I’ve gained to my soon to be writers on the hustle what it’s like both working and not having time to write and what working in small publishing has taught me about being a writer.

You’re still with me? Okay. Great.

Lunch breaks aren’t just great for food, but for small writing sprees. Take a notebook with you everywhere (which you should be doing anyway) and just take notes or write out scenes that you’ve been sitting on since your first cup of coffee. I also take notes when I’m on hold with a customer or when work is just dull. It keeps your mind focused on the story while also being a semi-successful member of society.

Where I work is a small publishing company, very small. This means that the rules of publishing are shifted slightly for our purposes. However, rejection letters are the same from a big company or small company. They’re the bane of our existences and crushing. The thing you might not know about rejection letters is how easy they are to write. Sure, you ultimately feel guilty, but at the same time it’s a part of the job and if you want to get paid you have to do it. The guilt subsides too when you are actually writing the rejection, it’s so easy to say no. It’s so easy to not like the material you’ve been given. Once you pull yourself away from the writer position and into the publisher frame of mind, you become a slight tyrant.

I did learn something from my new found ability to say no: how important it is to make a publisher say yes. Make us guilty for even thinking about saying no. Make us love the work. The first couple pages and pitch are so important. You can love the plot of the story, you can love your characters, but if we’re not sold in the first 10 pages it’s a no. If you don’t convey the plot and characters perfectly on your pitch, it’s a no.

Trust me, I know it’s scary to hear this, try working in this, but it’s just more of a reason to work hard and refine your skill. I have faith in all of you. Just keep pushing forward. Make your publisher fight for you work and hopefully you’ll see more of me,

But for now, peace out girl scouts,
elle.

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