Why I Don’t Want to Quit My Day Job for Writing
When I tell people I write novels, one of the first questions they ask is, “Would you quit your job and write full time, or is it more of just a hobby?” The truth is, writing is not “just a hobby” to me, and yet—for now at least—I don’t want to quit my day job.
(Why I Choose to Self-Publish My Writing.)
My typical day as a writer involves a lot of multi-tasking and context-switching. When I wake up in the morning, I scroll through messages both from my work email and my writing email. When I start writing in the early morning, I set an alarm for when I need to transition to my day job. During a particularly busy season (e.g. going on submission), I might interrupt my workday to take an urgent call from my agent, but most times, I’m spending at least eight hours in the middle of the day on my day job. Before and after, I leave time for my writing.
When friends see my schedule, they often say something along the lines of, “It must be exhausting.” And there are times when it is—usually when I’m on deadline. Most of the time though, the work ebbs and flows. I have seasons of busy writing deadlines and seasons of busy work deadlines. I find that when I spend too much time focusing on one area, I start to feel a hankering for the other. Like yin and yang, the two push and pull for attention in my mind.
I remember the first time I attended a writer’s residency program. I arrived with big dreams and hopes for the following two weeks. I had decided to take full PTO (paid time off) in order to immerse myself in the experience, I called it “cosplaying a full-time writer.” I was excited to see just how much I could accomplish with a full 12 hours in the day to write. Spoilers: I did not spend 12 hours a day writing.
In fact, it was probably closer to three hours a day, which is similar to an average day in the life. I would start the day feeling ambitious and hopeful, the hours stretching out before me like an open expanse of sunny sky. So many possibilities with how to fill it! I imagined I could crank out multiple chapters, solve a key character problem, or even outline the rest of the high level plot.
Instead, I would eat a leisurely breakfast. Then meander to my writing desk. Then check my email. Then check my email some more. Maybe open social media. Stare out the window. Watch a bird’s diagonal flight through the clouds.
The urgency that I felt in a typical workday had vanished. I didn’t have three hours on the clock before I had to transition to my day job. Instead, the openness of my schedule left me languid, and a little lethargic. Before I knew it, it was three p.m. and I had barely written a single sentence. Feeling panicked, I would try to muster some energy to write, but oftentimes I had been thinking about my novel for so long at that point that I would feel sick of it and crave something new to do. I would read the news, or go for a run. By the time I had returned home and showered, it was time for dinner.
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At dinner, the other residents would talk about how productive their days had been. Don’t get me wrong, I love chatting with other artists, and I find creative conversations fulfilling and invigorating. But when I’m feeling insecure about my own lack of progress, being surrounded by other artists isn’t always the most helpful company. Instead, I missed the technical conversations I used to have with my engineers at work, the way that the irrelevance of the conversation topic gave me the much-needed emotional distance from my creative project, to realize that if I couldn’t solve that plot hole, it wasn’t the end of the world. Art was my outlet and something I found joy in, but it wasn’t my only identity. If my writing went well, I was happy, but it also wasn’t my whole world. If my writing went poorly, I was unhappy, but it also wasn’t my whole world. I had other identities to root my self-worth in, not only in my job, but also in my relationships, in my interests, in the characteristics that made me, me.
Two very different authors that inspire me are Maggie Stiefvater, author of the Raven Cycle series, and Cixin Liu, author of the Three Body Problem series. Some of my favorite passages in the Raven Cycle series is when Stiefvater talks about cars. You can feel in her writing her passion and obsession for cars. That visceral passion leaps off the page, and makes me excited to read more—even though I myself have no interest in cars. Similarly, Liu’s background in physics is evident in reading the Three Body Problem trilogy, lending richness and depth to the science fiction series. The way these authors take their outside work, interest, and hobbies to enrich their novel-writing inspires me to similarly incorporate my own personal interests or subject matter expertise into my writing. Thus the stories I choose to tell are influenced not only by my personal life but also by my professional experiences.
In some ways, I compare my relationship with my writing to a relationship with a significant other. To maintain a healthy relationship with your partner, it can be helpful to have outside extracurriculars and friends separate from your significant other. Similarly, maintaining a healthy relationship with writing means nurturing other areas of your life that have nothing to do with writing. Being a ‘writer’ is an integral part of my identity, but it is not the only one. Although this may slow the pace of my writing, it is essential for me to sustain a balanced relationship with my craft. And sustaining, to me, is key; I hope to keep at this for a long, long time.
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