Do you consider yourself a writing amateur?
Recently, when hit smack in the face with the facts that I don’t have enough time to do what I want to do, someone who loves me very, very much (and raises my children…) suggested that I try to reframe the book as a hobby. Instead of worrying about the nitty-gritty, to think in terms of being an amateur writer, after all I’m not getting paid for it and even if I ever finished my book, the chances are slim.
And I being the rational, unemotional sort, upon hearing such an idea began to…sob. Okay, there was much beer involved but that wasn’t it. This as you can imagine, made him feel horrible which wasn’t my intent, but it was as if I was kicked in the groin. Yes, it hurts on girls too.
He explained that in order for it not to make him crazy, he’s had to see what he does have, kids he loves, a wife who adores him (yeah, I added that), and for the time being, shuffling the kids, making all of their meals, getting them off to school and home, all before I even make an appearance…he knew he had to put aside the writing dream. For now.
He suggested it because he knows how much it pains me to do things in dribs and drabs and was sincerely trying to help. But here’s the thing. I don’t know how to not do something all out. When I thought I was getting heavy, I signed up for a marathon. When I decided I wanted to write, I began a very, very (did I say VERY?) bad James Patterson Meets Jody Foster for a drink and concocts a thriller type of book. But still, it was a novel.
No matter how basic my writing is, I can’t think of it as a hobby. It breaks my heart to do so, and what it came down to was that if I wasn’t good enough for it to be a possibility, then I’d move on to another dream. Life is full of them. I’d consider it something else checked off. First though, I’d have to know I wasn’t good enough. Otherwise, it’d be me just giving up and I couldn’t do that. I can quit a job, but not a dream.
So I was wondering how many of you work your jobs and can be content with writing being a hobby? Or better yet, how do I become a NASCAR fan and just forego the writing altogether?
Never mind the adjective. You’re a writer. What comes when you FTF is a different issue that you don’t need to worry about yet.
Oh, and if you find out about the NASCAR thing, can you let me know? My son will want to join you.
My husband’s family are huge NASCAR fans. Since he and I are the weak links in the Jeff Gordon fan club, my mother-in-law tries to instill the love of racing in my kids. She puts it on and explains what’s going on to my minions, but I can’t get around the fact that they’re all driving repeated circles, never getting anywhere. Wait. It’s just like writing isn’t it? Hell, I’m made to be a NASCAR groupie.
The term ‘hobby’ is misleading. . . I know several people who create gorgeous art and win awards for it, but consider it all a ‘hobby,’ because it’s not how they make a living. A hobby can be something you can let percolate for a while by itself in the back of your mind while your busy with other things—because hobby deadlines are self-made and fluid. A hobby is practicing something until you’re very, very good at it.
I’m terrible at this POV, by the way. All-or-Nothing thinking is kind of an ingrained habit for me. But while I usually think of writing as a reall, part-time job (and thus subject to loafing and moonlighting, I won’t lie), sometimes I think of it as volunteer work—Important,yes, but with flexible hours that I fit in when I can.
So . . .forget “hobby..” How about “crucial volunteer work that might evolve into a permanent position”?
Yes! That’s perfect. Hobby connotes a certain levity I don’t possess with writing. Making clay people is a hobby. Running, baking cakes, sewing felt garlands, all things I enjoy but not things I want to be more than they are.
“crucial volunteer work that might evolve into a permanent position” is brilliant. Essentially, it’s saying the same thing but with words I can wrap my head around….and it cracks me up. THANK YOU.
Happy to help, Lyra! And please remind me of this when I tie myself into my next knot?
First of all, nothing is a hobby if you take yourself seriously doing it. Nothing. Even if you play tennis as a “hobby” with the women who fluff it over the net, you’re fucking out there, exposed in that short unflattering skirt, trying your damnedest on every point. Training for a marathon would be called a “hobby” too, right? But you are sure as shit doing every single thing you can to get ready for finishing that race, even if you have to drag yourself across the finish line. Just because you’re not training for the Olympics doesn’t mean you’re not serious.
I don’t believe in the word “hobby,” unless it’s sitting at the never-used dining room table putting together a jigsaw puzzle. Anything harder than that is a passion. You are passionate about writing, my dear sister Lyra. Just because you can’t do it everyday right now, or it’s on hold until you get your feet under you in this new job, the passion is still there. Don’t mourn it’s passing or diminish it — it’s still there, flagging you down with a blowtorch from the inside.
Yes, exactly this.
Teri,
How I’ve missed you. Thank you.
I also think ‘hobby’ denotes a frame of mind which is far, far away from where you are when you are writing. I agree there are some great and admirable hobbies out there, which can relax and transport the mind. But this is not the nitty-gritty agony of trying to write well and with purpose. Maybe your man doesn’t like to see you suffer, and these were the words that seemed best. Maybe he totally understands your struggle but wishes it didn’t hurt and pull you out of shape in the little bit of time you have for your dream.
I’m sure he meant well. I’m also sure your dream will not be abandoned.
The “nitty-gritty agony”, yes, exactly. How funny that we choose to do this when you look at it objectively, trying to get the exact word or phrase to show the best and the worst that we mortals have to offer.
And you’re right. It came about because he was trying to help me. I think he just wishes to make it easier, but alas, I’m not the easy sort.
Lyra, having visited with you for a while now, I think I can safely say that writing isn’t a hobby and it will never be a hobby. It is WHAT YOU DO, my friend. All of us here write and we are writers, and trying to force it into a box like a knitting project won’t work. I know, I tried. What’s so hard is that those who love us, especially our partners, they see the ups and downs, they see the days we struggle, and they want to move that out for us because they love us. It’s an impossible thing to explain to those closest to us. Hell, it’s hard enough explaining it to ourselves, isn’t it?
That was what got me about the conversation is that I got thinking about what is to most people a hobby, and yet why on earth would we put this sort of passion (as Teri so eloquently pointed out) into it?
You’ll appreciate this. As I’ve been attempting to get some typing of said book done tonight, it is 9:34pm and I’ve already put my youngest back into bed six times. How did you manage not one, but two books, while retucking kids?? At the moment, I can’t get two words down before I’m back up the stairs and then forget what the hell I was trying to say…
I like the word Teri uses. Passion. When it begins to feel like a job, I’m toast.
I’m fine with calling writing a hobby, as long as I can still hope to eventually quit my day job to make a living by it.
I also work full time and don’t write nearly as often as I’d like to, but it’s not a hobby. It’s just not. It’s not, it’s not, and there’s nothing that can change that, even if I only write for 5 minutes once a week, or once a month.