Thanks for the kind words, Mark. And thanks once more for last week's excellent interview.
For everyone else—as Mark is going through the publishing process now in real time, and therefore already knows—a lot happens between the day a publisher buys a book and the actual publication date. As the promotions begin, expectations adjust according to industry interest and perceived value. No one wants to throw good money after bad. It's probably as it should be. I think we writers need to remember that the publishers have to make money to exist and we need them to exist as publishing houses are an important part of the literary ecosystem. The first printing is often a test run.
Makes sense and it's great perspective. I certainly understand the business side of it....or try to.
I think publishers are doing what they can to keep the lights on, and generally are just trying their level best to publish books people will love and be able to make enough money to keep the show going.
It's the arts. If it was easy to figure it out, and easy to make money, everyone would do it. For the rest of us who can't help ourselves, we have to be paid often in other currencies....sanity, the joy of the mastery of craft, connection with the likeminded....
"It's the arts. If it was easy to figure it out, and easy to make money, everyone would do it."
Yes! I think that fact is often a necessary gatekeeper. Fiction writers need to make money too, obviously. But that's not what drives most of us. There are far easier and much more reliable ways to make money. Something else usually fuels the writing. And when money (sales) becomes the focus, that's often when the writing gods abandon us.
Thank you, Matthew. This is so informative and reassuring. I appreciate your honesty. My soul wants to write. And that is it.
I’ve fantasized about quitting my day job and going for an MFA, writing all day and riding off into the sunset living happily ever after. Hah! But the bills need to be paid, so I won’t be doing that anytime soon. Instead I have been writing whenever I can, and also finding ways to incorporate creativity into my day job to pay the bills AND feed my soul. So far it’s been difficult, but there is a glimmer of hope and it’s starting to take shape.
So glad, Amy! I've come to suspect that living happily ever after (even mental health wise) would immediately kill my writing career. Happily ever after is the end of a story. And writers need to live in the beginning and middle too. When I quit my job and did the MFA, it was exiting, but it was also scary and humbling and alienating and led to drinking massive amounts of alcohol, often alone. It was a necessary period of my life, but it was not a happy period. It was often excruciating. And I think the writing life is meant to be wrestled with. It's not a passive peaceful thing, or at least that hasn't been my experience. Incorporating creativity into your daily life and job sounds smart, especially if you are managing to feed your soul while doing it. Beautiful! I've come to believe that difficult is often beautiful too, as we learn and grown from difficult. Education is almost always painful. I heard that once in a documentary about Mark Twain and I used to tell my students that all the time. Education is usually not easy or fun. There is a cost for everything. And finding balance is a wonderful goal. Godspeed, Amy.
"I don’t think it creates meaning anymore than a miner’s pickax creates diamonds." I love that sentence. I also love writing and creating and I've always been cautious about making that love my sole income. Don't get me wrong, I've daydreamed about it most my life, but perhaps that was enough for me. I don't know if I have the fortitude to deal with the stress and the "abuse" it takes to live the actual writing life. It may be an easy way out of going to war, but I think I'm content living a life with writing rather than the "writer's life". But let me keep chewing on that one.
It's kind of interesting (dare we say funny?) to think of becoming a full-time writer as self-abuse, because every fiction writer—on some level—chooses to live the precarious creative life. Or maybe some of us are compelled. I think cautious is a good thing. There is a certain madness needed to make the leap. So many intelligent well-meaning people advised against my making the big jump. The people who actually did encourage me to quit my job and write full time were a little nutty (in the best of ways). But that path is definitely not for everyone. It's not a better or worse path. It's just one path of many. I don't think 50-year-old Matthew Quick would make the same decisions that drunk pre-analysis Matthew Quick made in his thirties. I often wonder about that. That the less healthy me made the hard mad choices that led to the life I currently live.
Nov 15, 2023·edited Nov 15, 2023Liked by Matthew Quick
Well said. I always put it this way. Imagine someone likes golf. They go to golf on weekends, and they like to practice and read about golf and watch it on TV. And they enter tournaments. Imagine if someone told this golfer he could make money to play golf, sometimes a lot, sometimes not a lot, and sometimes not at all. Most golfers I know would say: this is amazing!
That's how I've always approached writing. I was a full-time writer during Covid, having sold my first novel, and really didn't like what it did to my relationship to writing. My friend made the decision, with his wife (both writers), to get high paying jobs in silicone valley first, after his MFA, then transition to remote work, write on the side, and then take writing seriously, once the money side of things was handled. Meanwhile, another friend just published a big novel with a big press, and it's not sold very many copies at all, so her hopes of getting a similar advance for another book will likely be dashed. Thankfully, she has a good day job.
This is not to depress anyone; if I had listened to people who said not to make writing my focus, who knows where I would have ended up. But writing is a bit like driving, or moments of physical intimacy: it works best when unencumbered by external forces.
Selling that first novel definitely changed how I approached writing. It was always a dream, a hope, an ideal. And then it became something I relied on to pay rent and put food on the table. I've heard Bukowski say fear is a great motivator and I think I initially got a lot of fuel out of being financially terrified. And, in some ways, I think I intentionally (maybe subconsciously) kept psychologically upping the stakes there.
It used to be normal for writers to have patrons. My agent told me that—as recently as the 90s—literary agencies routinely lent money to mid-list authors who needed it, using nothing more than the hope of future books as justification. Apparently, you'd pay them back out of your next advance, should you get one. And many writers still rely on spouses or family members to help them get by. Whatever works.
I love running. But if my financial stability depended on how fast I ran, I think running would no longer be my end-of-the-day way to destress. And I think I could apply that analogy to just about anything. I remember teaching and waking up at night terrified that I wouldn't get tenure, and then suddenly realizing I missed that Dead Poets Society lesson when I first saw it in the theater at seventeen years of age. LOL.
I think those who are meant to write will blow right past any warnings. I think that is in the DNA of most writers. A willingness to do what most often is fruitless. And a writer does this endlessly. Sometimes fruit does eventually grow. Sometimes we eat. But having an apple tree in the backyard is probably a more reliable way of keeping apples around.
Thank you, Matthew. I really enjoyed reading this and found myself nodding a lot along the way.
The part about your Goddard manuscript made me laugh out loud. Mine sits there, glaring at me, even 15+ years later. I tell it "shhhh" and go write about something else. You're correct, not everything we write needs to be seen.
Nice to know you got something from this, Kelly. Ah, the Goddard creative thesis. What times we had in Vermont. Good to see you here. Thanks for the kind words!
My head exploded to bits at the depth of thought and the amount of effort you gave to this piece, Matthew. This is the most honest, grounded, and impactful illustration of the "writer's life" I have ever read, especially in the context of searching for security, success, sanity, and meaning.
Also, your non-fiction voice (including how you reason and organize your articulation) is really very powerful and gripping. Hope this line of endeavor bears even more fruit in your creative exploration, because truly many more people can benefit from your wisdom.
Thanks, Vicky! So glad you took something from this piece. I'm flirting more and more with non-fiction. We shall see what comes of it. Thanks for being here with us!
I am grateful that you laid it all out there for us, Matthew. For me, writing can be a compulsion. However, I am unable to follow through on finishing a poem (my most frequent metier) because I get distracted or lose the scrap of paper upon which I have written it. And then, with Long Covid, and being on the SPECTRUM, my memory is not what I want it to be. That said, you were quite gracious and real in telling those of us who want to write that it isn't as it is often portrayed. And then, too, when I find a writer whose work speaks to me, I want to read his/her/their output! Your books speak to me. I have not read them all, but they are real and true, and help me cope with the challenges of being neurodivergent in a "normal" world. Be well and safe. Send my love to Kitty Hawk, and all. Thanks, Ann Flynt
That's some real talk! Crazy to think about how publishers sometimes don't print enough books to make an earn out possible. Yikes.
Your courage and drive are a mark to aim for.
Thanks for the kind words, Mark. And thanks once more for last week's excellent interview.
For everyone else—as Mark is going through the publishing process now in real time, and therefore already knows—a lot happens between the day a publisher buys a book and the actual publication date. As the promotions begin, expectations adjust according to industry interest and perceived value. No one wants to throw good money after bad. It's probably as it should be. I think we writers need to remember that the publishers have to make money to exist and we need them to exist as publishing houses are an important part of the literary ecosystem. The first printing is often a test run.
Makes sense and it's great perspective. I certainly understand the business side of it....or try to.
I think publishers are doing what they can to keep the lights on, and generally are just trying their level best to publish books people will love and be able to make enough money to keep the show going.
It's the arts. If it was easy to figure it out, and easy to make money, everyone would do it. For the rest of us who can't help ourselves, we have to be paid often in other currencies....sanity, the joy of the mastery of craft, connection with the likeminded....
"It's the arts. If it was easy to figure it out, and easy to make money, everyone would do it."
Yes! I think that fact is often a necessary gatekeeper. Fiction writers need to make money too, obviously. But that's not what drives most of us. There are far easier and much more reliable ways to make money. Something else usually fuels the writing. And when money (sales) becomes the focus, that's often when the writing gods abandon us.
Facts!
Thank you, Matthew. This is so informative and reassuring. I appreciate your honesty. My soul wants to write. And that is it.
I’ve fantasized about quitting my day job and going for an MFA, writing all day and riding off into the sunset living happily ever after. Hah! But the bills need to be paid, so I won’t be doing that anytime soon. Instead I have been writing whenever I can, and also finding ways to incorporate creativity into my day job to pay the bills AND feed my soul. So far it’s been difficult, but there is a glimmer of hope and it’s starting to take shape.
I am determined.
This piece has helped to strengthen my resolve.
So glad, Amy! I've come to suspect that living happily ever after (even mental health wise) would immediately kill my writing career. Happily ever after is the end of a story. And writers need to live in the beginning and middle too. When I quit my job and did the MFA, it was exiting, but it was also scary and humbling and alienating and led to drinking massive amounts of alcohol, often alone. It was a necessary period of my life, but it was not a happy period. It was often excruciating. And I think the writing life is meant to be wrestled with. It's not a passive peaceful thing, or at least that hasn't been my experience. Incorporating creativity into your daily life and job sounds smart, especially if you are managing to feed your soul while doing it. Beautiful! I've come to believe that difficult is often beautiful too, as we learn and grown from difficult. Education is almost always painful. I heard that once in a documentary about Mark Twain and I used to tell my students that all the time. Education is usually not easy or fun. There is a cost for everything. And finding balance is a wonderful goal. Godspeed, Amy.
“Happily ever after is the end of a story.”
YES!!!!! I agree 100%. So many good nuggets of wisdom here I’m going to tape this to my office wall. Thank you so much! Again!
We made the wall! Nice!
"I don’t think it creates meaning anymore than a miner’s pickax creates diamonds." I love that sentence. I also love writing and creating and I've always been cautious about making that love my sole income. Don't get me wrong, I've daydreamed about it most my life, but perhaps that was enough for me. I don't know if I have the fortitude to deal with the stress and the "abuse" it takes to live the actual writing life. It may be an easy way out of going to war, but I think I'm content living a life with writing rather than the "writer's life". But let me keep chewing on that one.
It's kind of interesting (dare we say funny?) to think of becoming a full-time writer as self-abuse, because every fiction writer—on some level—chooses to live the precarious creative life. Or maybe some of us are compelled. I think cautious is a good thing. There is a certain madness needed to make the leap. So many intelligent well-meaning people advised against my making the big jump. The people who actually did encourage me to quit my job and write full time were a little nutty (in the best of ways). But that path is definitely not for everyone. It's not a better or worse path. It's just one path of many. I don't think 50-year-old Matthew Quick would make the same decisions that drunk pre-analysis Matthew Quick made in his thirties. I often wonder about that. That the less healthy me made the hard mad choices that led to the life I currently live.
Well said. I always put it this way. Imagine someone likes golf. They go to golf on weekends, and they like to practice and read about golf and watch it on TV. And they enter tournaments. Imagine if someone told this golfer he could make money to play golf, sometimes a lot, sometimes not a lot, and sometimes not at all. Most golfers I know would say: this is amazing!
That's how I've always approached writing. I was a full-time writer during Covid, having sold my first novel, and really didn't like what it did to my relationship to writing. My friend made the decision, with his wife (both writers), to get high paying jobs in silicone valley first, after his MFA, then transition to remote work, write on the side, and then take writing seriously, once the money side of things was handled. Meanwhile, another friend just published a big novel with a big press, and it's not sold very many copies at all, so her hopes of getting a similar advance for another book will likely be dashed. Thankfully, she has a good day job.
This is not to depress anyone; if I had listened to people who said not to make writing my focus, who knows where I would have ended up. But writing is a bit like driving, or moments of physical intimacy: it works best when unencumbered by external forces.
Selling that first novel definitely changed how I approached writing. It was always a dream, a hope, an ideal. And then it became something I relied on to pay rent and put food on the table. I've heard Bukowski say fear is a great motivator and I think I initially got a lot of fuel out of being financially terrified. And, in some ways, I think I intentionally (maybe subconsciously) kept psychologically upping the stakes there.
It used to be normal for writers to have patrons. My agent told me that—as recently as the 90s—literary agencies routinely lent money to mid-list authors who needed it, using nothing more than the hope of future books as justification. Apparently, you'd pay them back out of your next advance, should you get one. And many writers still rely on spouses or family members to help them get by. Whatever works.
I love running. But if my financial stability depended on how fast I ran, I think running would no longer be my end-of-the-day way to destress. And I think I could apply that analogy to just about anything. I remember teaching and waking up at night terrified that I wouldn't get tenure, and then suddenly realizing I missed that Dead Poets Society lesson when I first saw it in the theater at seventeen years of age. LOL.
I think those who are meant to write will blow right past any warnings. I think that is in the DNA of most writers. A willingness to do what most often is fruitless. And a writer does this endlessly. Sometimes fruit does eventually grow. Sometimes we eat. But having an apple tree in the backyard is probably a more reliable way of keeping apples around.
Thank you, Matthew. I really enjoyed reading this and found myself nodding a lot along the way.
The part about your Goddard manuscript made me laugh out loud. Mine sits there, glaring at me, even 15+ years later. I tell it "shhhh" and go write about something else. You're correct, not everything we write needs to be seen.
Keep being awesome. You rock!
Nice to know you got something from this, Kelly. Ah, the Goddard creative thesis. What times we had in Vermont. Good to see you here. Thanks for the kind words!
My head exploded to bits at the depth of thought and the amount of effort you gave to this piece, Matthew. This is the most honest, grounded, and impactful illustration of the "writer's life" I have ever read, especially in the context of searching for security, success, sanity, and meaning.
Also, your non-fiction voice (including how you reason and organize your articulation) is really very powerful and gripping. Hope this line of endeavor bears even more fruit in your creative exploration, because truly many more people can benefit from your wisdom.
Thank you very much Matthew!
Thanks, Vicky! So glad you took something from this piece. I'm flirting more and more with non-fiction. We shall see what comes of it. Thanks for being here with us!
I am grateful that you laid it all out there for us, Matthew. For me, writing can be a compulsion. However, I am unable to follow through on finishing a poem (my most frequent metier) because I get distracted or lose the scrap of paper upon which I have written it. And then, with Long Covid, and being on the SPECTRUM, my memory is not what I want it to be. That said, you were quite gracious and real in telling those of us who want to write that it isn't as it is often portrayed. And then, too, when I find a writer whose work speaks to me, I want to read his/her/their output! Your books speak to me. I have not read them all, but they are real and true, and help me cope with the challenges of being neurodivergent in a "normal" world. Be well and safe. Send my love to Kitty Hawk, and all. Thanks, Ann Flynt
Really appreciate these kind words, Ann. Thank you!