You Can Write On Napkins

One thing I like about writing is that, unlike almost any other field, money does not matter.

I don’t mean the writer doesn’t care about money. What I mean is that having money does not correlate to success.

There are only two ways I can think of how money could potentially make someone a successful writer. One, if you’re very rich, you can afford to sit on your ass and write all day, and in that way you might improve faster than someone who is working two part-time jobs and is a student at the same time and still trying to write whenever they can. Two, you also may possibly be able to buy your way into a good agent or editor via daddy’s or mommy’s connections, but that most definitely does not guarantee that your writing is any good, and honestly I can’t see that flying as easily as in other industries.

Or you’re a celebrity, and then your book will just get published automatically because your face sells.

Take, in contrast, a career in any nine to five office industry, be it publishing, finance, marketing, or whatever. If you want a decent job when you graduate—and then to continue to be promoted after you have secured a job—you need to hardcore network and get as many internships as possible. At least, that’s the way it feels when you attend a small liberal arts school with a bunch of (very nice and amazing yet rather) rich kids. And money helps you with both those things, because if you’re well-off, it means your parents are probably quite successful in their careers, which means they know people, and can help you out—or that you can simply afford to live in New York City or wherever for a summer interning,  because your parents can help you with rent.

I don’t mean to hate on everyone out there who comes from a well-off family. Pretty much every wealthy kid I know works really hard for their success. Regardless, money provides them better opportunities (i.e., living in New York for a summer without taking out loans).

You can be poor as hell and be a writer. You don’t even need a computer—grab napkins from cafés and scribble on them. Might be difficult to write a novel that way, but you’re still writing. You don’t need money to be a good reader, though money can lead to a better education and therefore arguably a stronger interest in literature. Libraries still exist, believe it or not, and they have this thing called free books. There’s also the internet, which is also free at the library, where you can read both books and online literary magazines like this one.

Writers all start at the same place and money can’t be abused as a cheat to get from point A to point B. Even if you’re good at writing and rich, you can’t necessarily buy your way into The New Yorker. Not only do writers generally start at the same place, but we’re all trying to get to the general same final destination. Sure, some just want to write a thousand romance novels, and I respect that if that’s your jam. Some just want to get published in one specific journal, perhaps. Some are looking to write the next Great American Novel. But generally, we’re all trying to share something that’s inexplicable, describe something that resists description, paint the intangible with words. We’re all trying to get published anywhere, to start with smaller literary journals, and then maybe one day, if we’re lucky, The Paris Review, and then, if we’re even luckier, someday we’ll have a book published. Some writers may be ahead of others in getting to these milestones because they’ve been writing creatively since they could hold a pencil. Some writers may be ahead of others because they read all the time. But none of that directly depends on one’s financial situation.

Many of my peers here at Specter are “ahead of me” in this path, but that’s definitely because I do not write creatively nearly as much as they do and haven’t gotten my writing to the point at which I’d be comfortable sending it out. I only have myself to blame. The fact I am broke as hell as nothing to do with it.

My family isn’t poor, but we’re not wealthy either. We’ve always been in that middle area – the one that consists of public schools, a modest house in a good neighborhood, and colleges that give generous financial aid. Although we never really struggled, I grew up highly aware of money and class. Of course, this isn’t always a bad thing. I feel guilty when I spend money on something I don’t need or even want that much, and I’m sure this awareness is part of the reason behind my ambition to get a good education and career (not that I’m ever really going to get rich off of editing or publishing).

But with writing, I’m on the same plane as everyone else. There’s not the same sense of economic hierarchy in writing that there is in other professions. I’m not thinking that this person has unfair advantages, because no one does. We all start the same, give or take some arguable natural talent for words. We all start with the same blank page.