Is this what Monday mornings are like for scifi writers?
Monday, July 14th, 2008In keeping with the disappointing scifi discussion I started last week, my feed updated this morning with a painfully dreadful post on the scifi/fantasy novelists blog from David B. Coe. In it, Coe talks about what it’s like to be a midlist author.
I’m not really going anywhere with this post. I have a book to finish and page proofs to read through. I woke up this morning knowing that it was my day to post on the blog, and this is what I was thinking about. I’m in the middle. Of everything, it seems like. And right now it’s all feeling like bit of a slog. I’d love to finish with something uplifting and hopeful, filled with determination and a promise that I will eventually have that huge success. But this is a tough business, and I understand that we can’t all be bestsellers and household names. Someone has to fill the midlist, and I’m not willing to give up my position here if it means moving anywhere but up. It’s not a bad place to be; not by any means. Let’s be honest, though: No writer begins his or her career striving for the middle.
There it is, folks. Most people aspiring to be an author, including myself, will end up right here. In the middle. Existing, comfortably, but always hoping for more.
To be honest, isn’t that part of the beauty and the curse of the human machine? We are beings of hope and desire, always grasping at the next rung on some mythical ladder of prominence. Think about it: at one point, Coe aspired to be nothing more than an author. The fates granted him that one wish, and he became an author. Now, he hopes for more notoriety. How many of the rest of us in his position would desire the same thing? And what if someday he hits upon a singular radical concept that propels him to fame and fortune and household namery (that’s not a word – don’t look it up)? Would it not be natural for him to then wish for yet another chance to strike at success, and continue his ascension up the ladder?
Seeing a post like this reminds me of one of the stark truths to being an author: it is a job. It is work. And just like the guy stuck in middle management of a small marketing team for Global Corporation XYZ, just being an author does not guarantee enormous wealth and success. It’s a job. And sometimes, just working harder doesn’t necessarily get you any higher up on the ladder.
It’s a fairly dark and depressing post that Coe made today, but I’m really glad he had the guts to write it.
I actually didn’t think it was that depressing — certainly not “painfully dreadful”. But I’m grateful to you for saying it took guts to write. I love being an author, but as you say here it is indeed a job. Sometimes it’s the best job in the world — better than anything else I can imagine. Sometimes — like today — it’s more routine than exciting, more slog than inspiration. I make no apology for wanting more, for being ambitious. Did my post today come off as whiny? Maybe, though that wasn’t my intention. Did it make me sound greedy and spoiled? Perhaps to some. But it was honest. I want to accomplish more than I have. I suppose that makes me human.
Maybe “painfully dreadful” wasn’t the right phrase, but I have to admit that it did have a tone draped in what felt like a certain reflective sadness. You did mention that you enjoyed what success you have received, but the longing glances towards a future that *could* be just gave the whole post a decidedly weary mood.
But don’t take that as negative criticism! More than anything, what I loved about the post was how raw and honest it was. It’s good to hear these kinds of things from authors. If nothing else, it helps to serve as a gentle reminder that when one finally achieves one’s dream of becoming an author, all is not roses and rainbows for the rest of eternity. That’s what I took away from it. Not depression or darkness, but honesty and reality.