When to Ditch the Jammies
By Sarah Callender | January 13, 2016 |
This post-song goes out to you beautiful writers who dream of going pro someday, selling your books for actual money . . . a-one, and a-two, and a-one-two-three-four!
Springtime 2000. I am in my seventh year as a high school English teacher, and I realize I am doing all of the creative writing assignments I give my students, not because I’m a good role model, but because an itchy seed of something is growing in me, and writing is my Calamine-soaked backscratcher.
“I don’t get it,” I tell my friend, Paul. “Suddenly, I need to write. Need to.”
I can hear the shrug in his voice. “So write,” Paul says. “No one’s stopping you.”
The need doesn’t go away, and the constant essay grading and lesson planning doesn’t afford me time to write. After much deliberation, I leave teaching and launch myself into what I call my Silly Job. It is deliciously silly. Boring too. But I work only from 7:30-4:30, earn the same salary I did as a teacher, and have afternoons, evenings and weekends to write.
December 2015. At a New Year’s Eve soiree, when other party-goers ask what I do for work, I say, without even a bit of clumsy bashfulness or self-deprecation, “I write fiction. I’m also an editor and tutor, but that’s just for money. My real gig is writing.” On the way home it hits me: After fifteen years, I am finally comfortable with the sentence, “I write fiction.”
Yikes o’frighty! What took me so long? We are artists, yes; aren’t we also entrepreneurs? Is it possible for us to assume the posture of a professional even before we earn a dime? Yes. It is possible.
Professionals Set Expectations and Boundaries
As a fiction writer, I have no boss or salary or bonus goals. I can write in my pajamas. I can take the afternoon off. I can take every afternoon off. What freedom!
But no one’s going to write my book for me. I need to take advantage of my time to write, and I need to protect it. If I use my lunch hour to write, I should let my colleagues know I’m not interruptable. It’s my writing time, I might say. I’ll talk to you in an hour. I may have to tell my teenager, I have a big project at the office, but I still need to hit my daily word count for my book. I’ll need your help with some housework over the next few months. Or I may have to tell a friend, I’d love to have coffee, but I work from home, and I need to work while my kids are at school.
Our colleagues, teenagers or friends might roll their eyes or have hurt feelings, but that kind of discipline writes novels.
Professionals Find a Solid Source of Faith
My dermatologist doesn’t do Skin Thickening Procedures, and noise-cancelling headphones can’t block out the nasty voice that says, Hey dummy! You’re wasting your time. Get a real job! Therefore, we need to place our faith in something bigger than we are, knowing that the going will get rough. Then rougher. Then roughest. In fact, the closer we come to getting published, the more rejection, critical reviews and unsolicited feedback we will receive. The good news? Faith can be bigger and stronger than reviews and rejection.
Some of us place our faith in God, but faith can also come from belief in a simple fact: Even when I am writing crappily, I feel better than when I am not writing. I will keep going. Or maybe: If I weren’t supposed to be a writer, it never would have occurred to me to start writing. I will keep going. Or this truth: Story matters. My stories matter. I will keep going.
Professionals Know Where and When to Seek Advice
If I told Picasso to knock it off with all the blue for crying out loud, he would (and should) ignore me. If I told my fire-fighter friend, Pete, that during his next fire, he might consider aiming the hose a little more to the left, he’d ignore me. Likewise, we writers need to develop our gut-trusting muscles to humbly, thoughtfully determine who has good advice and who does not.
I have made a list and titled it People Whose Opinions Matter. It looks like this:
- God
- My husband and children
- My writing partners
Nowhere on that list is Unnecessarily-Unkind Editor or Nasty Amazon Reviewer Who Doesn’t Know the There/Their/They’re rule. No one on your list should ever write you a rejection letter or give you a one-star Goodreads rating because he didn’t like the name of your protagonist. Your list should include those who are encouraging but honest, those who will love and tough-love you unconditionally.
I had an agent offer representation for my first book if I changed X, Y and Z. Also A through W. It is difficult not to take an agent’s advice as gospel, equally difficult not to be wooed by an agent’s interest. His advice may have been great, or it may have been the opposite. But I knew with certainty that had I written his book, it would not have been my book.
That said, true professionals are humble enough to seek advice, help and encouragement. We must lean in to the camaraderie and wisdom of WU’ers. We should find a mentor or critique partner who is encouraging and committed to our growth. If we need help with the business of writing–an area where many of us lack passion and interest, we should seek out WU’s Dan Blank or Jane Friedman. As entrepreneurs, we need to commit ourselves to understanding how to build our platform and increase our online presence even when terms like platform and online presence, make us queasy. If I want my start-up company to soar, I need to pop a Dramamine and get to the work of learning the biz.
Professionals Properly Value Their Time and Skill
A few weeks back I was chatting with another writer who was generously editing an acquaintance’s novel. “I feel like I should be getting paid,” he said. “It’s taking up a lot of my time.”
I got a little bossy. “You’re dang right you should get paid.” I directed him to this website created by the Editorial Freelancer’s Association. “You have a skill. That skill warrants fair payment. Don’t you dare charge anything below the going rate.”
Right or wrong, we esteem certain professions because of their high salaries and billable hourly rates. When we writers agree to work for piddly fees, we are suggesting our time and skill aren’t valuable. Plus, too much pro bono work means our stories are no gono get written.
Should Professionals Ditch Their Pajamas?
Not at all. Being a writer is hardly glamorous and rarely lucrative; we should take advantage of the perks of being writers. I love the bosslessness of being a freelance editor, tutor and writer. I love working in my jammies. My husband doesn’t love me working in my jammies because they are an odd and unattractive assortment of fashion genres spanning two decades.
If, however, we want to have the perk of some income, we need to be savvy about when it’s OK to wear pajamas to the office versus when we need to don a mental (or literal) business suit, sticky-roller the cat hair off our laps, and build ourselves a platform, an online presence, and a million-person gaggle of readers that’s eager to buy our product.
I’m curious: Do you chafe at the suggestion that your writing is a product? How have you assumed the role of a pro fiction writer even before you earn money? What has been your greatest challenge in going pro? Anyone up for a weird pajamas contest? Thanks, friends, for sharing.
A Middle Grade novelist (and Middle School English teacher), Sarah Callender lives in Seattle with her family. Because Sarah dislikes cleaning anything that will just get messy again, she tidies the house and weeds the yard only when absolutely necessary. This allows her time to focus on her true–and somewhat fraught–passions: writing, Abe Lincoln, and Tony’s Chocolonely chocolate bars. Equally passionate about mental health advocacy, Sarah is a member of The Stability Network. Sarah’s first novel, LUCY IN BETWEEN, will be published by Margaret Ferguson Books/Holiday House in 2026.
Hi Sarah.
Love your list of people whose opinions matter. :)
I tend to still look down and mumble when people ask me what I do. Maybe that’ll change when I get published? And the thought that writing is a product rather than an art can only come from people who don’t write.
Sure, it’s easy to string a bunch of words together and submit it to Amazon as a fiction novel, but to mold those same words into a true story full of emotion? Not so much.
Thanks for sharing!
Yes, Tom. It is so hard not to mumble when someone asks, “What do you do for work?” I have been there!
I think I finally figured that the number of hours and the progress I have made in the craft department (though I will never feel like I “have arrived”) allowed me to feel like I could call myself a professional . . . even before I have gotten myself published.
You’re absolutely right that writing is an art. Those who write for the joy (and the challenge) might not ever have to think of writing as more than an art. It’s when we want others to purchase our stories that we have to think of our writing as both art and product. In my humble opinion.
Thanks so much for your thoughtful comment! Happy writing to you. I’ll look forward to hearing about the day you realize you have gone pro. :)
I loved reading your article! I was happy to hear I’m not the only one to write in jammies! There are weeks when I dress as if I’m actually going somewhere,and then there are the Jammie days! I think my best writing happens on those days! 📚🌺
Ha, yes! Sometimes when I take my daughter to school, I realize I am still, at least partially, in my pajamas. That works in the winter when a coat can disguise my outfit. Not so in the spring.
Happy writing to you, Tolar.
Sarah, I’m up for the pajama contest! One thing I LOVE about being a writer is my office is where my butt is planted. In fact, I wrote my best scene ever while in bed sipping a hot toddie.
That said, I don’t chafe at treating writing like a profession. As far as the commitment to make the creative work as amazing as it can be, I’m serious as an eschatological scholar. Being creative, though, is a strange beast, since getting to that place requires tapping into the quirkiest parts of your humanity. It’s not the kind of thing you show up in a suit and fire off like clockwork. In fact, it’s the kind of thing you do that promises only, in the moment, to be chaotic and often depressing, often rewarding and blissful, but always, always, it adds up, and those who stick it out learn this is the case.
Happy writing!
Hello John Robin! Yes . . . love the one you’re with and write where your butt is planted. Brilliant.
I thought about you as I was writing this . . . your creative ways of connecting with readers, your ability to find the fun and joy in marketing. That will make such a difference as you build your gaggle of readers; I know it already has!
Sometimes I envy those who can go to work, have a few meetings, manage a project, fire off about fifty emails, then call it a day. It’s harder for us to drum up (and then execute) a to-do list.
Sigh. Poor, poor us. What a terrible life, this writing gig. ;)
Happy writing and connecting, mi amigo!
I definitely look at my book as a product. I was a professional illustrator and felt the same way about my drawings. If a writer is writing only for the joy of it and has no intention of publishing, then I would think they would think differently. I want to share my book and need to polish it so I don’t waste reader’s time. My biggest pet peeve is reading unpolished books. I was trained to take criticism in art and not be defensive. It’s still up to me how I make and interpret the changes.
Ironically, I posted a story today about discovering an illustration drawn thirty-five years ago. Talk about product. I don’t even have the original. I gave it to the newspaper!
And I do love my pajama pants!
I love your hat, Susie.
Yes, I agree with you totally; there are writers who need to consider their art as a product and those who don’t. I would really love to earn a dollar or two with my writing . . . to validate all of the hours I have spend and to prove to myself that it’s a jobby rather than a hobby.
How cool that you bring your perspective and experience as an illustrator . . . you are clearly ahead of the game in terms of learning how to listen (or not listen) to feedback. I had a writing partner who would NEVER listen to feedback. It saddened me, not because my feedback was right but because working with defensive, stubborn people is not so much fun.
You don’t look older than 35 yourself . . . you must be an illustrator prodigy. ;)
Happy art-making to you!
I had the same experience working with a publishing professional who didn’t get what I wanted to write. I didn’t get it myself at that moment, but at least I knew it wasn’t what he had in mind. A writer can seek help without giving up their own vision. A writer can have faith amidst the doubts. And a writer can certainly wear pajamas! (Though I believe it’s a good thing to help other writers without charging if you’re so inclined. Charge your readers and quit giving away your books for free! Sorry for getting on my soapbox.)
btw, I love your long hair and pretty pic!
Thank you, Carmel! I figured it was time to update my very outdated professional photos. ;)
I totally agree that there is a time and a place for pro bono work, and I’m so glad you mentioned it. In the summer, I helped a high school girl edit her NaNoWriMo novel. She has dreams of being a writer (she already is if you ask me) and it was such fun to encourage and push her. I figure what goes around comes around, and certainly I have had many kind and generous writers support me (via pro bono wisdom and advice). It’s a privilege to be in a position where I can give someone a small boost.
No need to leave your soap box–you are totally right!
Thanks for your thoughtful and insightful comment, Ms. C!
I’ve been given so much good advice (a lot of it here on WU) and critique help over the years, it IS a privilege to pass it on.
Always a pleasure, Sarah.
“It is difficult not to take an agent’s advice as gospel, equally difficult not to be wooed by an agent’s interest.”
I have been a professional fiction writer. That was some time ago. I wrote commercial fiction, quickly, for money. I didn’t get rich, my reviews were terrible, and while I learned a great deal it wasn’t enough. And I knew it.
Now, after a twenty-year hiatus I am back, but not like before. I realize that writing to the market is limiting, and anyway that market no longer exists. The only way forward is to become a novelist, the real deal, writing from a personal place, telling the stories only I can tell.
Today I reach for deeper craft and greater art than ever I did in the days of easy contracts. (Thank you Writer Unboxed.) The road is longer, the process slower, but the satisfaction is magnitudes greater.
You resisted the siren call. Good for you. I wish I had known to do so way back when, I’d be a different writer today and have many more pairs of pajamas.
Well, maybe not. I’ve never liked wearing pajamas. I pull on jeans and a sweater as soon as I’m out of bed. I can’t get to my keyboard fast enough.
I love everything about this comment, Benjamin. Thank you for sharing your personal lessons and realizations. And your last line? Perfect. Don’t you feel so darn fortunate to be a writer?
I look forward to reading your novel some day. As for your writing garb, you are smart. It’s embarrassing when someone drops by my house without warning and there I am, dressed like Grunge meets Mom meets Flashdance.
Have a great day, Benjamin!
I turned pro 12/12/12, the day of my patron saint, Our Lady of Guadalupe, after reading Steven Pressfield’s ‘Turning Pro.’
It seemed auspicious. The writing had been going on since 1995, and I was determined to get the WIP finished and published.
I stopped whining about the many problems I still have, put the fear in a journal where it belonged (instead of circling around in my head – still have to write there a lot), and have managed to waste a lot less time, and to publish that book in late 2015).
I write in non-binding jammies, and am having a ball. Holding your firstbook in your hands is quite something.
Best of luck with your two novels being shopped.
It feels good, doesn’t it?
It really does feel good, Alicia. Even better than non-binding jammies. That cracked me up.
I love your story and your progression from fearful to courageous. And your point about the increase in productivity is fantastic. When we see ourselves as serious professionals, we dilly dally less.
Such an accomplishment to get your book published. Bravo to you. And yes, Pressfield’s book, The War of Art, is brilliant. everyone should own a copy, no?
Happy hump day to you, Alicia!
There’s so much here! Where to begin!! It’s taken years for me to understand that my novel is a product. But what sustains me thru the ups and downs of writing it is the faith you talk about, faith in the fact that its a story worth telling. The other big shift for me is that I’ve begun to feel comfortable building a platform and engaging with potential readers. I mean, really big shift. And the PJ thing? I’m working on a clothing line for writers that goes from bed to coffee shop with a simple addition of the right accessory (think tunics, leg-warmers, cool hoodies.) Thanks for making me smile and think at the same time, Sarah. You have a gift for that.
Such kind words, Susan. Thank you! I always love your thoughtful comments.
First, I can’t wait for your clothing line. Oranges, light blues, pinks and browns are my best colors. My husband will be thrilled!
Second, thank you for sharing where your faith comes from. I often think: “I’m not crazy. If this is a book I’d want to read, then someone else would want to read it too.” And that’s the book I write.
And gosh, good for you for building your platform and connecting with readers. If you are anything like me, I appreciate the huge leap that must have been. As I age, I am learning that we humans are all broken and messy, we are all doing the best we can to muddle through, and we connect with one another when we are vulnerable. Writing can feel like such a vulnerable activity, yet we still do it. We should be able to create great communities of readers through that same vulnerability, honesty and authenticity. I am 100% certain that’s what you are doing. :)
Thank you, Susan, for sharing!
Sarah, you always write amazing posts that make me think long and hard. Thank you.
The struggle between whimsical artist and businesswoman is constant for me. My nature and day job think with a business mind. But the writer in me…wow, that lady likes to dance.
At the end of the day, all I can do is own it, own it all. I am a writer because I write. Period. Not because I’m published, or have an agent, or because my website says so, or because I bought the t-shirt. I study the craft, I read A LOT, and I find my happy place when I write. That’s it, that’s what makes me a writer. I own it.
Sarah, don’t ever stop writing these great posts. You are a writer through and through. Why? Because you touch me with your words. And what, my friend, could be any better than that?
Dee Willson
Author of A Keeper’s Truth and GOT
So kind, Dee. I totally agree with you . . . writers write. I love the idea of writer-Dee being a secret dancer. A private dancer. A dancer for money. (Tina Turner, anyone?)
You keep at it too, Dee Willson! I love knowing you are a part of this great community.
Thanks for the long-distance dedication, Sarah! You’re like WU’s answer to the loss of Casey Kasem.
I admire the fact that you not only got swanky but honest on New Year’s Eve. Good job! But I feel I should remind you that there is yet another hurdle after that first open declaration—one which is tougher for some of us than others. As I explained in my last essay here at WU (for which you were a co-contributor – perhaps an unknowing one?), readily naming yourself a writer is a great step, but it often leads to that next dreaded question: “So what kind of fiction do you write?” But I’m even working on conquering that horizon, and waving my fantasy freak flag without hesitation.
To riff off of what you and others have said, I think it might be easier for me to accept some of the realities of this gig having already succeeded at something else. By that I mean that having been in business for myself before, I already knew to lower my expectations and embrace a work ethic. There is no free lunch. And that same background and mindset also gives me a greater appreciation for the pajama-like supplemental gifts this pursuit offers. I love that I can pursue this just for the love of it, that it comes from my heart, and that the truer I remain to that the better the probability of my product’s success (as I choose to define it).
I also love that yesterday I was able, at a moment’s notice, to alter my goals for the day. I wanted to write, but the weather was particularly nasty. I chose to become my best friend’s chauffeur for the day (my BFF happens to be my spouse – lucky me). I didn’t wear my pajamas, but I may as well have. I just went along on a bunch of errands and then sat in a waiting room during her routine doctor’s appointment (I think a few of the others in there were in their PJs). I know I’ll catch up on the writing today… Or Saturday. The writerly life is good, isn’t it?
Another bonus to the writerly life? I get to enjoy the hell out of Sarah Callender days on WU. Today’s no exception.
Oh Vaughn. You’re so great. There really are so many bonuses in this writer’s life. Perhaps if it were easy to make money, we’d think it was simply too good to be true. (That’s me searching for a silver lining.)
One of my critique partners has a funny little spiel she gives when someone asks what she writes about . . . she’ll say, “I write about sex and motherhood.” That usually scares or silences people.
It’d probably be a good idea to educate all the not-writers of the world about Off Limits questions for writers. I honestly can’t believe how much a hate being asked, “What’s your book about?” I’m going to start saying “sex and motherhood.” You could use the same line if you want!
hugs,
s
What a fun and inspiring post! Thanks for sharing your journey. And thanks especially for this line, which I needed:
“I knew with certainty that had I written his book, it would not have been my book.”
I wrestled with that feeling for most of 2015.
Thanks for the empathy, Kristan. I wish there were fewer feelings with which to wrestle in this gig. You know?
Sounds like you stayed true and faithful to your story? It is NOT easy.
Happy writing to you, and may 2016 be filled with only feelings that don’t try to keep us in a half-nelson.
Sarah, I recently had to fill in some medical forms and I bristled at checking the “unemployed” box. It’s true, of course, but I wish they had a box for “other” where I could fill in: writer-mama.
When I took my first writing class over a dozen years ago, I claimed my writing. I’ve been calling myself a writer ever since. And it’s strange to discover how many people want to write a book but never pick up a pen to do so.
I like what your friend said, “If you want to write, WRITE.”
I totally agree, Vijaya; there are so many would be-writers who are silenced before they even pick up a pen! I’ve gotten a little snarky with some of them . . . when they say, “I’d love to write a book someday!” I say, “Then why aren’t you?”
I don’t say it to be unkind; it’s a genuine question. Perhaps they are waiting for the muses or the courage or a supportive partner. Or maybe they just need to hang out here at WU for a few months.
I always appreciate your comments and courage, Vijaya! Thank you for sharing.
Well said, Sarah!
Thank you, Bernadette! So glad you are a dedicated part of WU.
:)
Thanks for the great inspirational post. When you mentioned the times we should jettison the jammies for a more professional look, that reminded me of the time before the Internet when contact with editors and agents was by letter or phone. If I was going to make such a call, I would put on a business suit and sit down at my desk in my office. No calls from the kitchen with kids hanging on my legs, the cat trying to get into the cage with the bird, and hubby wondering when dinner would be ready.
And no on the weird jammie contest. People do not want to see how I look when I am working., Trust me…
Yes! I love that. Professionalism is a posture, an attitude and even an outfit. I’m so glad you brought this up.
(It also reminds me of one of my college roommates who was dating a guy who was in the Navy and was paying back his college tuition by way of living on a nuclear submarine. For his monthly phone calls, she would dress up as if she were on a date. We always laughed with her about it, but it makes perfect sense. It’s easier to feel romantic when you’re wearing something other than a ripped university sweatshirt and cutoff shorts.
Thank you for your words! I think you and I might be good competition for each other in the jammies contest. ;)
Excellent post. I’ve published short fiction, but I haven’t made the leap. On good days I go to my bookstore/coffee shop/office; other days I stay home, sloppily dressed, and chase distractions. I’ve just developed an issue with my health, however, that in the past week has kicked me into high gear. So I’m now up for non-sloppy clothes, make-up, and the pseudo-office. Not the best way to go professional, but it’s like what Samuel Johnson said about concentrating the mind (though not nearly so serious as his example). I’m glad to know jammies are acceptable home office attire, though. (I taught English for a lot of years. Not a chance of writing for real in that job.)
I’m so sorry about your health issue, Kathy! It’s true that those reality checks really do kick us into high gear. Thank you for sharing.
Impressive, too, that you have short fiction published. I have never been able to write short fiction . . . in my mind it’s so much harder than the long stuff. Good for you and keep on with that dedicated writing schedule!
Wishing you good health,
sarah
I’ve been saying I’m a writer off and on for the last 35 years. It depends on whether I’m feeling comfortable with “The Title” and whether I’m actually writing.
I liked this article a lot. Thanks for the encouragement.
Yes, I totally get that, Giselle. It’s so much easier to say that we are writers when we know we are getting serious buns-in-chair time.
Thank YOU for your encouraging comment. This community is pretty amazing.
Hello Sarah,
I think you should get paid just for coining the phrase, ” Yikes 0′ Frighty. Love that and, as other have said, you are witty and funny. You were my reward after going over yet another chapter of my novel. It is a story I put away years ago after an agent wanted me to write it from the woman’s perspective, instead of the man’s. But it was HIS story, so I said no, even though she was originally excited about the novel. I have been writing non-fiction for the last few years for various magazines until I pulled this novel out again a year ago. I am revising, but still have faith in this story. Thanks for your wonderful post!
Hi Judith,
I loved your comment because it speaks to all of the “noise” we hear as writers . . . opinions and suggestions and conditions. For an occupation that is largely solitary, there is certainly a lot of chatter that goes on! it can be so distracting and even discouraging.
But yes, when a story belongs to a particular character, it’s not fair to take that away from (in your case) your male protagonist. I applaud your faith and your commitment.
As for “yikes o’ frighty” I wish I could take credit for that . . . it was a friend’s grandmother’s favorite saying. Isn’t it brilliant and perfect?
Keep on with your revisions, sweet lady!
:)
Sarah, I must be a professional, because I’m grumpy a lot. (Note: this does qualify me for many other professions as well.) I think because I was a proofreader, editor, essayist, marketing/business writer and travel writer (and grump) before I ever published any fiction, I’d already lumped those all in as “writer.” So, I’m a lumpy writer.
My current pajamas are a red plaid, much like the brickwork in your image for the post. Comfy they are, but I usually change into regular clothes (shin guards, fireman’s hat, saxophone) before I head out to the ol’ Airstream office. Fun trivia fact: My mother has given me new pajamas at Christmas every year since I was a zygote. She is now 93, and of course, this year she still delivered on the pajamas. Life is good.
Tom! I wrote this post for YOU, hoping that you would finally out yourself as a grumpy-lumpy sax player. You really came through!
I love your mother. I wish I had an Airstream office. Life really is good.
Thanks, as always for sharing your funniness and your wit. Do your shin guards get as stinky as my kids’ shin guards do?
Mwah! Hug!