If you want to find out how unglamorous writing life can be, you need to read this book. It is a beautiful writing about writing and working and living through it all. It is a nice book, but not an uplifting one. It’s quite simple, basic prose but honest and true. I value that more than anything in writing.
Nancy Peacock tells it again, so maybe we get it this time: writing rarely makes one rich. As a matter of fact, it barely helps one support oneself with the basic necessities. One might need to keep doing odd jobs long time after one is a “published author”. Not fair, right? That’s what I’m thinking. But, I guess, all artists struggle this way. Not everybody makes it big. Some just don’t make it in their lifetime. How unlucky and unfair is that?!
Sometimes, making a living out of writing might mean compromising yourself, writing less than your soul and spirit, for lesser reasons than to educate and move the masses. What am I saying here? Writing is hard. I can tell you that too. Disciplining it might be impossible and you cannot make much money out of undisciplined work. Sometimes writing needs to be supported. By some wealth in the family, by a Maecenas, or by housecleaning.
All throughout history artists, writer have gone without food, without covering their basic needs. I wonder why is that? What makes an artist incapable of working a normal job? As Nancy Peacock shows, it is not necessarily a question of time. There is time for a part time job and writing. Writing cannot be done from 9 to 5. That would be too much to ask from the muses. But maybe the rest of the time must be spent in inspirational ways, not inclosed in a suffocating, soul-killing, corporate office. Housekeeping, actually, seems like a brilliant idea – solitude, family lives to be inspired by, houses that tell stories. Right? Why not? Be open-minded. Be open-minded. That’s a good mantra.
I liked Nancy Peacock’s book and I am planning to read another one of her novels. Life Without Water. It sounds good. About hippies!