Cost of Living

on making a living as a writer, sort of

I hate asking for money. I am very self-conscious about this. I don’t even like the idea that people can pay for my newsletter if they want. There are no subscriber-only posts (though if you are a paid subscriber (current or new), email me at emily.f.maloney@gmail.com with your address and I will send you a paperback or a book cup, US addresses only, while supplies last, if you like). My partner always has to price and sell my ceramics work, because even at shows, I’ll try to give it away for free. I could use the money, of course. Porcelain is not free, and neither is electricity or groceries. I am working on a New Book and the New Book check is not coming until after I turn in the book, probably somewhere in the first quarter of 2024 at the earliest, and I am attempting to be thoughtful about our spending and our budget, sell some stuff and also pots, write a few pieces, teach a class or two, submit for any unclaimed property (you should do this too), eat from our garden, and edit in the meantime. I canceled all our streaming services, switched our internet and phone plans. What travel we’re doing involves staying with family and/or getting tickets with miles, or driving.

The pages are happening and the book is due January 1. I think I can make that deadline, and maybe I’ll turn it in before, but even if I do, it’d be very difficult to make it to copyediting early. If you’re a writer, and you have an advance, your publisher will slice it into 3-5 payments, your agent takes 15% off each payment—because they need to get paid too—and you don’t get your second installment until after the book is accepted and sent to copyediting, or somewhere in there (it’s called “delivery and acceptance” or D&A on your contract). I’m working with a new editor, too. I don’t know what she’ll want, or what the timeline for revisions might look like. I was very briefly orphaned, for about eight hours—my original editor left for a new publishing house—and though I suspect the editor assigned to me might be an even better fit, we don’t know each other yet. So, I’m working, and hoping that I can get to where I need to go. But in the meantime, I am also thinking about money, and how much life costs. And I’m reminded of this whenever I come across another post asking for money.

I’ve been following a few writers on social media for a long time. At first glance, they seem like the sorts of folks I would mesh with: they’re outdoorsy, maybe one of them also rides horses. They write about some of the same topics. They’re creative, educated, and thoughtful. There are lots of ways in which I feel like I could theoretically be friends with these people. But I can’t. Here’s the thing:

Periodically, maybe even often, typically prompted by some emergency or other, they beg for money on the internet.

I am extremely fortunate and privileged in many ways, and I try to be open about this. My partner has a day job where he’s paid on a regular basis. This is huge. We have health insurance through his job, too, which is also incredible. I have an advance for the book I’m currently writing: truly, a dream. We have, at times, received gifts from family (typically in the form of travel to family events). And, finally: we bought a three flat from a bank almost ten years ago. We used his savings and a student loan I took out immediately prior to graduating from graduate school and renovated it using a special FHA loan (the FHA 203k, which allows you to include renovation costs in the mortgage) and now we rent our upstairs, almost entirely to graduate students, or fellows. We are a good situation for grad students, or try to be—close to transit, nice, not fancy, just clean, central air, dishwasher, free laundry in the basement, and cheaper rent compared to everywhere else in our neighborhood. I know that this is all crazy for some, but we live in the Midwest, and things are more reasonable here. We put down 3.5% and funded a bunch of additional renovations using my day job, and I grew up in houses under construction, so I knew some things about houses and how they work (or don’t). I really recommend that all writers should figure out a way to do this, to add stability, though I know it’s crazy expensive to buy a house right now, and also recognize that my privilege also extends to feeling comfortable in this domain, and our willingness to live without a kitchen sink (Ori washed our dishes in the bathtub for the first six months) or a lot of other nice things (like a roof, now fixed). Probably it will not happen on the coasts, but it could still happen in the Midwest.

Here’s a nubbly porcelain espresso cup, fresh from the kiln.

Sometimes I think about how I would love to live in LA, or New York, or London, or somewhere else, but we can’t afford that, so we live here, and I write full time. It’s very cold in the winter, and my partner, who spent his formative years in Mississippi, also feels it is cold here in the spring and the fall, and dons a jacket whenever the temperature drops below 70F, but eventually winter is over and then it’s summer again. Before I wrote full time, we paid off a lot of debt. I worked a corporate job where I made money but was very unhappy. The goal, eventually, was for me to be able to write full time if I wanted. So we are here. We made it. Sort of. Inflation’s been hard, but we try to keep costs down. None of this is new; a lot of this I mention in Cost of Living.

All this is to say it’s hard when I see folks asking for money. I am not talking about mutual aid. I think mutual aid is vital. I used to have $50,000 in medical debt and nearly $70,000 in student loans, and tens of thousands of dollars of credit card debt. When I was in my early twenties, I was on food stamps and lived on less than $11,000 a year. My partner also received food stamps as an Americorps VISTA. We get it. If you need a new roof, or money for surgery, or to pay for a lawyer, or whatever it is, we are happy to contribute if we can, and we do. Being a human is stupid right now. Everything is more expensive than it ever was. Also, we really should cancel all student debt. Truly. I paid off my student loans years ago and I feel this more than ever.

Writing is hard. It’s less financially viable to be a writer every year. I get this. But when I see able-bodied white women writers (and truly, in my experience, it’s always able-bodied white women) asking for money, without any exchange of goods or services, or else with a promise of future goods that often go unfilled, it’s hard for me to stomach. I think, why not just get a day job? Work for someone else? I don’t understand why they ask. To me, it feels uncomfortable. If I needed money in the way some of these folks claim, I would not turn to the internet. I would try to get hired somewhere. And the claims they make are always the same. They need the money to write the book, but they don’t want to get a day job, because they are wired in a particular way that prevents them from working for other people. It bothers me a lot. These women come from extraordinary privilege. Some of them clearly have family support or additional income, and it shows up in the purchases they show off on Instagram. I want to call them out specifically—to say hey, we know you’re trolling for cash here, will you please just stop? If your current line of income isn’t viable, maybe try something else. Live in a cheaper place, at least? But I don’t.

Some of the people who contribute to their requests appear to be less financially stable than the women asking for money. That’s the worst part. I worry that people are being exploited. That’s why I want to say something.

Part of it, I’m sure, is about how some folks must believe that this is the way that writers make a living. I hate that we’re spreading this rumor. Most writers have day jobs, or income from a variety of sources. Right now I don’t have a day job, and that makes me incredibly lucky and privileged, but I probably will again, and soon. It’s just the way things work right now, in our era of late capitalism. Maybe I will sell pots again. Maybe I will sell another book after this one. But even if I do, probably I will get a day job, because that’s what everyone has to do. In the meantime, I’m writing, attempting to make the most of this time, if I can, and blocking out the rest.

Some great books:

I loved The Guest.

Currently devouring The Parking Lot Attendant.