They have it all, don’t they? Writers on TV shows and in films spend their days swanning about, visiting bookshops, eating their bodyweight in muffins without gaining an ounce of weight, drinking coffee like it’s water and their bladders are made of iron. Their time is their own. Even when they seem to have a ‘job’ they still seem to be able to take endless breaks and wander around parks having deep thoughts.
How is this possible? Where is all the money coming from to pay for rent and utilities? Who pays for all those coffees and muffins? Sure, they probably use credit cards, but that bill also needs to get paid, right? Or is there some debtor’s prison somewhere filled with broke writers who maxed out their credit cards on pastries and caffeine?
Meanwhile, back in the real world, I’m waking up at 5 am, or trying to, to squeeze in a bit of writing time before spending all day helping students get better at their own writing. I’m also trying to get in some time at my drawing desk, and get in a short workout so my muscles don’t atrophy from all the sitting I do all day. Then there’s the housework, and walking the dog, and doing the shopping, and occasionally leaving the house to actually socialize with people. And I’m single with no kids! I have it easy!
Not that I’m averse to work. I love my job and I love my students, who range from philosophers and astrophysicists to doctors, sociologists and future policy makers. They are all so young and hopeful and still believe there is enough good in this world to bring us back from the brink of whatever doom scenario the papers are spouting this week. They balance out my jaded cynicism. And they provide me with a bunch of useful stuff for my writing!
Still. When I see yet another film where a cute music reviewer meets up with an aspiring novelist and they spend endless hours wandering around beautiful places eating croissants and drinking wine with nary a stubbed toe in their fashionable boots, or worried look at their pristine top-of-the-line smart watch – when I see that, I do start to turn into a bit of a green-eyed monster. Not because of the designer clothes and gadgets, mind you, but what a life it would be to have all that extra time to write!
Of course, we know why fictional writers spend their time mooching about in designer clothes with the latest iPhone and perfectly done hair. They have to sell the film, because people who watch films about writers know that if the writer looks like what most writers really look like at home, then they are probably a villain and might very well kill you (Secret Window anyone?). Also, the day of a writer would be a little boring to see on screen. Let’s be honest. I’m pretty sure no one wants to see me sitting at my computer for three hours in my dressing gown chugging cold coffee and scratching my head every so often.
But sometimes, just sometimes, I wish I could be a fictional writer. My house would always be clean. My writing space would be inviting and tidy. My dog would walk herself, and my coffee cup would always be steaming, nestled in a selection of muffins and biscuits. Best of all, I’d have all the time in world to write, and all my obligations would just take care of themselves. What a blissful life this could be.
Very good, Jo. It would indeed be good if these film scenarios were for real, but then I have a feeling you’d get a bit bored if it were that easy. :))
Very true. I have a sneaky suspicion that I am only really content when I have a dozen plates juggling overhead.
Ha, Ha! Love it Jodie! You nailed it! I spent most of my life working 3 jobs at a time to finance my writing – and getting up at 5 a.m. to have time to write before I had to get to “work,” so I feel for you – or with you. Now I’m retired and have written books – but writing them and selling them – well, that’s two separate issues. Fortunately, I don’t drink coffee…but I’ve had to give up the muffins! Hope you have great success and can purchase all the coffee and muffins you want! God bless.
Thank you Stephanie! Yes, the fictional writer does not worry about selling books. They are all immediate bestsellers 😉
I must confess, I am more of a tea drinker than a coffee drinker, and prefer scones to muffins, but your kind blessing of beverages and snacks is most appreciated!
I knew a fiction writer in San Francisco. His nails were bitten down to the quick, his hair never combed. He wore his PJs nearly all day. He looked haggard with bags under his eyes. He said he loved his life; he lived with the characters he created, so if they were happy, he was happy. And he made money. That money came from the TV jingles he wrote on the side…they gave him the liberty to sit at home writing his fiction—as the Powell Street cablecar clanked by his window every thirty minutes a day ringing its bell—each time it passed, he’d aim the butt of his cigarette at it. He always missed.
This reads like the start of a great Raymond Parker-esque crime novel, Shirley!