Moving Forward, Standing Still: The Hubris of Public and Personal History in The Afrikaner by Arianna Dagnino

Moving Forward, Standing Still: The Hubris of Public and Personal History in The Afrikaner by Arianna Dagnino

Publisher: Guernica Editions

Review: Hollay Ghadery

The Afrikaner by Arianna Dagnino is about as surprising as any contemporary post-colonial novel I could imagine. Though it's been many moons since I studied postcolonial literature during my undergraduate degree, I had an idea in my head about what this novel could be about: either a scathing condemnation of colonial power and abuses, or a narrative of apology for those abuses. The Akrikaner is neither. It's a tough trick to pull off. Acknowledgement, after all, is needed.  

And it's given, but not by the book's omnipresent narrator, who loosely but adeptly juggles perspectives through dialogue, but never moralises on them. Rather, it's the characters who offer up their explanations, cry their abuses, make their apologies, and wrestle their demons. True to reality, every little hurt is not bandaged, and many of the injustices simply live on. 

The novel is set in modern day South Africa and follows Zoe du Plessis, a palaeontologist of Dutch-colonial origins whose boyfriend and colleague, Dario, is gunned down in the streets of Johannesburg as the result of political tensions. In fact, this serenely violent scene opens the novel, and is the only part of the book that is not guided by Zoe's gaze. Instead, it's told in the first person, by Dario himself. A strange narrative choice, perhaps, but as the novel progresses and I learnt more and more about Zoe—someone prone to equal measures of emotional constipation and misdirected dramatics—this clarion exposure to the voice of Dario helps to situate the reader; makes it easier to see just how much weight we should put in the muddled thoughts of Zoe. Her ability to manage this subtle balance is a testament to Dagnino’s agility as a writer.

There's an impulse, I think, to try to clean up Zoe: everything from her opinion to her emotional and physical self seems to languish, and fade about the edges. Even though she can hardly sit still, leaving the university where she works to continue Dario's expedition in the relatively unpopulated and barren regions of the Kalahari Desert,  she manages to maintain the stature of someone who is standing perfectly still; doing nothing. Getting nowhere. This suffocating immobility is echoed by Zoe's rereading of her Aunts’ diaries, which detail a family curse; a curse that says the first daughter of every daughter in the du Plessis family will never know lasting love, the person they love being doomed to die. It's a prophecy that Zoe, like her aunts before her, dismissed until the death of their lovers gave the curse credence. Zoe's mental and emotional inertia is frustrating to read. I admit that I found her almost as difficult to take as Hoda in Adele Wiseman’s Crackpot. Like the sluggish, brash Hoda, Zoe’s stagnancy is a fascinating reflection of the seeming impossibility of finding closure amidst the disparate beliefs and attitudes in post-colonial West Africa. It’s hard to forgive. It’s hard to forget. It can feel impossible to move forward. 

But as  Zoe learns when she discovers her brother is in love with a black man who will be taking over part of their family wine business; and as she learns when develops slow-burn, reluctant romantic feelings for a well-known writer who was imprisoned for his anti-apartheid beliefs, the world doesn’t stop for tragedy, no matter how great. Likewise, the human spirit can endure, if given room to breathe, heal and grow. Dagnino’s strange and beautiful writing provides the reader a safe space to negotiate their own way through the fraught, painful and fractured totality of the post-colonial experience toward a new understanding of literal and metaphorical spaces and places. 

Power Q & A with Elizabeth Greene

Elizabeth Greene is the editor of The Dowager Empress, Poems by Adele Wiseman, and the writer of several books of poems, as well as the novel, A Season Among Psychics. In this Power Q & A, she tells us about the accessibility and beauty of Wiseman’s poetry.

Q: For peopple who have never read Wiseman’s poetry, why should they pick it up?

A: Adele Wiseman's poems are tough, curious, original, authentic—and accessible. Like her novels and non-fiction, they are vision-clearing. Readers of Adele Wiseman's other work will find their understanding of her writing deepened by acquaintance with her more personal poetic voice. Readers new to Adele Wiseman will discover her in her most personal and. possibly, most approachable writing. Almost NO ONE has read much of her poetry before now. Only a handful of poems were published during her lifetime. So they should be a discovery for almost all readers!

About Elizabeth Greene:

Elizabeth Greene has published three books of poetry, The Iron Shoes, Moving, and Understories. Her poems have appeared in numerous anthologies, most recently I Found It at The Movies and Shy: An Anthology, and various literary magazines. She has also published short fiction and creative non-fiction. She edited and contributed to We Who Can Fly: Poems, Essays and Memories in Honour of Adele Wiseman which won the Betty and Morris Aaron Award for Best Scholarship on a Canadian Subject.

She taught English for many years at Queen's University, originating courses in Selected Women Writers from Julian of Norwich to Bronwen Wallace and Contemporary Canadian Women Writers. She was a founder of Women's Studies at Queen's and was instrumental in establishing the courses in Creative Writing there.

She lives in Kingston, Ontario.

How to Become a Freelance Writer: Tips from the Trenches

I'll admit it, when I first dreamed of being a writer, I envisioned romantic bursts of inspiration, fancy parties, and, of course, major windfall for all my creative efforts. I was eight years-old at the time, so granted, my vision was idealised through the sugared-glaze of childhood. Even over a decade later, when I started writing professionally and could call myself a capital 'W' writer, I was not prepared for what it would entail to really make it in this profession over the long-haul.

And it is a long-haul. I've been a freelance writer for 15 years now, and this profession is not for the faint of heart. That's the bad news. The good news is that it is for the full of heart, so if words are your life and you have at least a smidgen of workable innate talent, then you stand a good chance of making it as a freelance writer. Of course, passion alone isn’t enough.

Keep reading. Here are my top tips how to become a freelance writer.

1. Don't Quit Your Day Job

Most of us don't have the luxury of living off savings (if we have any) while we wait for our freelance gig to pick up—and it will probably take some time to pick up. Even if you worked as a company writer for years, going freelance means you have to establish a reputation of your own: you can't rely on the reputation of a brand to back you up. So, while you're establishing yourself as a freelancer, it's always a good idea to have a reliable source of income as well. Even if it's just part-time, these funds will help support you through the dry-spells that are an inevitable part of freelancing at any stage in the game.

Quick word, though: if you already work as a writer for a company or organisation and plan to go freelance, be sure that your freelance work isn't gained through poaching any of your current employers clients. This is not only bad form, but likely, against company contract. You want clients? Go out and find your own.

2. Build a Social Presence

On the day I am writing this, our Instagram account is only a week old. Yep. It's a baby. (But, to our credit, we’ve been on Facebook a mite longer.) What took us so long to get on board the undeniable, seemingly unstoppable social media trend? Well, you know the old adage: the cobbler's children go barefoot. Our services include doing social copy and social media management for our clients, and we just never seemed to get around to doing it ourselves. Brutal, right? It is. With over three billion people using social media worldwide, social platforms are essential to building your brand as freelancer. A consistent social presence will help you gain an audience, increase awareness of your services, engage with current and prospective clients, build your authority and, the icing on the cake—it's free. All you need to do is invest a little time in creating engaging, like-worthy posts.

3. Don't Be Too Precious

I wrote a whole article being overly precious and it boils down to this simple fact: part of learning how to become a freelance writer involves learning how to cultivate your interests outside your established interests. You may live for travel writing, but National Geographic likely won't hire you off-the-hop. By all means, do as much travel writing as you can, but also, be willing to take on other projects in other fields. As a fledgling freelancer, you can't be too precious about what you will and will not write. As long as it isn't morally offensive or illegal, you should at least consider it. Besides, you never know what fascinating fields you can stumble into with an open-mind.

4. Don't Write for Free

Many, many online and print publications will tell you that "exposure" is your payment. Unless you work in the sex trade, exposure, unfortunately, does not pay the bills. What exactly you will be able to charge will depend on variable factors like your experience and the scope of the project in question, but if you want to become a successful freelance writer, you need to charge something. We sometimes do pro-bono work when the cause moves us, but this is the exception: certainly not the rule. Charge for your efforts.

Also, be sure to manage your money properly. Until you build a steady client-base—which can take years— your revenue will usually vary significantly from month-to-month. Feast and famine is part of #ThatFreelanceLife, so, when you get a cushy payment, after you pay your essentials, be sure to tuck some of it away for when times are tight.

How much should you charge as a freelance writer? Standard junior freelance rates can start as low as $20 per ~500 word article ($0.04 per word) while senior rates can go upwards of $150 for the same length ($0.30 per word). Rates also depend on what you're writing. For instance, $20 per 500 word article is decent for a piece you can knock-out in under an hour and requires little research, but if it takes more than that, you either have to increase your rate, or become more efficient. And speaking of which...

5. Get in the Grind

When you're writing for a living, the time-suck of writer's block is a luxury you cannot afford. Writing is a grind, and you simply need to write and write and revise and write and edit until the project is done. Don't sit there waiting for divine inspiration: just nail your butt to the chair, and start writing. Sure, the first paragraph or three may turn out to be a warm-up to get you to the real meat of the piece, but the time it took you to write those paragraphs (which will ultimately be scrapped) is far less than the time you would have spent staring at your blinking cursor doing nothing. Learning how to become a freelance writer largely involves the simple, unwavering commitment to just writing.

6. Keep Learning

Read. Voraciously. Anything you can get your hands on. Whether you're a creative writer or technical writer, reading is a wonderful way to keep refining your craft. Also, take courses to keep your qualifications tip-top. Enrol in an editing certification course, like the one at Simon Fraser. Read up on best practices for keyword optimisation. Take a Google business writing course. Some of these resources are free; others...not so much. But there is some truth to the saying, "It takes money to make money." Of course, you don't want to bankrupt yourself, so just do what you can, as you are able. Any advantage you give yourself is an advantage over your competition. Maintaining this edge is why our rag tag team of writers is constantly updating our certifications, learning, and honing our skills.

Read up on our top recommended resources for writers here.

7. Be Professional!

You’d think this would be self-explanatory, but sadly, it’s not. Just because you can work in your jammies doesn’t mean you can toss basic professionalism to the wind. Answer emails in a timely fashion. Manage your time so you can deliver on deadline. Correspond in complete sentences. If you have questions, ask. Be accountable. Don’t give excuses—no one’s interested. Do. Your. Job. Yes, life happens and sometimes the scat hits the fan, but if you’ve managed your time properly, there is usually no reason your clients have to know about your life’s mishaps. And, if you’ve cultivated a professional and dependable reputation, in the rare instances that you do need to adjust a deadline or step away from a project entirely, your clients will understand. They’ll still contact you when they need something done in the future. They’ll still recommend you to others.

Listen, freelance writing affords many freedoms, but freedom from accountability isn’t one of them. Unlike many other jobs, there is no one to stand in for you if you don’t show up. When you’re a freelance writer, your word really is your bond. Make it count.

Have questions or tips of your own? Share in the comments! Interested in our services? Contact us now.

Work Outfit Ideas…for the Home Office

Yesterday I wrote an article in which I had to weave the phrase ‘work outfit ideas’ as many times as possible without it sounding awkward. Such is the life of a writer with diversified income streams (there’s a reason why popular culture thinks we all have a bottle of whiskey in our desk drawers and it ain’t because the muse is so demanding).

For said article, I had to write about seven work outfit ideas that would bring some excitement to dressing for the office. As I channeled my inner fashionista (cue insecure adolescent who wore her brand new sweater on the first day of school only to nearly die in the early September heat), I  got to thinking about my own work outfit ideas.… Thus, here are a few fashion tips for those of us who travel straight from the bed to the desk.

1. Don’t let anyone ever tell you that pyjamas don’t constitute legitimate work outfit ideas. Hell, if regular people can wear leggings to work, why can’t we don stretched-out leopard print fleece bottoms with a grease-stained T-shirt? You too can rock the bedtime look even if it’s Tuesday morning and you have a high-stakes phone interview with a web developer from Australia who insists on referring to writing as ‘content’.

2.  Bra-schmaa. We are, after all, independent, working women (cue the 1970s). As I write this, in fact, my bra is sitting on my desk, having been removed in a fit of discomfort while composing the section on sophisticated work outfit ideas.

3.  All you really need is one pair of socks, the woolier the better. All this daily changing of socks is totally unnecessary. If I can wear my Smartwools everyday on a five-day hiking trip, there’s no reason they can’t keep my feet snug for a whole week of work, making five work outfit ideas out of one accessory. Win.

4. Never mind the little black dress that will transition from the office to the martini bar with the right accessories. Instead, invest in a few black hoodies. I own three. They’ll accompany all the work outfit ideas you have, keep you warm, and allow you to answer the door (should it become necessary) looking relatively normally day-dressed.  

5. Get-down-to-business clothes are the work outfit ideas you need when you have a deadline and want to feel fully awake and like you’re in charge of your life. Lately the main one I wear is a pair of worn-soft jeans with an oversized taupe sweater from Value Village that has a giant white heart on the front. When I slip on that pair of old slippers with the heels collapsed that are normally kicked off under my desk, I’m ready to walk the runway (meaning the hallway to the kitchen to get another cup of coffee).   

6. Don’t forget to occasionally apply deodorant and brush your teeth. These go-to grooming habits will help you truly rock your work outfit ideas.

By: Lauren Carter

Being Human: A Lesson in Limitations

My mother is a visual artist. In the last few weeks, she’s returned to her studio after a couple of difficult years involving a move to a new community and two deaths in our immediate family and, subsequently, not a lot of painting. It’s been a hard go.  

What prodded her back most recently was a portrait of my late brother that she wanted to finish for an upcoming exhibition. After that, she got a commission to do a painting for a local arts organization. She faced the blank canvas, started to work, and immediately hated what was appearing. Right then, she nearly threw in the towel, she told me on the phone.

What kept her at her easel, she said, was a bit of self-coaching.

I’m just beginning, she told herself. I don’t know what it will be yet.

That was wisdom I needed to hear too. Immersed in a tricky fourth revision of my novel, I’d reached the point where my path forward was foggy and I was starting to hate what I was doing. Probably I was also starting to realize that, as always happens, this novel would never be what I’d dreamed it could be. I was hitting up against my human limitations.

Making art is tricky, isn’t it? On the one hand, we’re hungry to create the ultimate poem, painting, play and strive to replicate what we envision. Deep down, though, we know this is impossible - or we should know. I like how Dr. Eric Maisel, a psychotherapist, creativity coach and writer, puts it: “Better to think of a work of art as miraculous and not transcendent, splendid and not perfect. If you ask your work to be what it cannot be, you will have transformed it into impossible work.”

And thus, you’ll do what we do when faced with the impossible: you’ll stop trying. My mom’s words - I don’t know what it will be yet - opened the door to whatever she might create and enabled her to step forward. This nod towards the vulnerability of creating, the unknowingness of it, freed her from that overwhelming sense of potential failure. It also respected her artistic aspirations which are holy in and of themselves. It made her work possible.

This is important. It’s important at every stage - from the very beginning, with the paint brush newly wet, and deep in the trenches, while working on a fifth or sixth draft - because that sense that you simply won’t be able to replicate your original, perfect vision can stop you in your tracks, freeze you, give you that malady which we call writer’s block.

I won’t ever write the perfect book. Neither will you. You know that, right?

Like a child, my creation will end up being what it will be. I’ll aspire to my visions of perfection, and do the best I can, for as long as feels right, and then I’ll move on to the next effort at “the impossible” which writer Hermann Hesse defined as “a striving for totality, an attempt to enclose chaos in a nutshell.”  

My mom, in that little bit of artist-appropriate self-talk, acknowledged this, and accepted this, thus eliminating a whole bunch of anxiety and giving herself the freedom to begin.

And by listening to my mother (because I know she’s usually right), I was reminded of my aspirations. I felt free to daydream some more, and to move freely forward myself: rewriting scenes, tweaking, entering the trance of working, paying attention to my human-artist instincts that arose, crawling a bit closer to my vision.  

Creative Assignment: Take a piece of paper. In magic marker, write “I will never write the perfect [book, play, poem, story, whatever it is]. Nevertheless, I will aspire.” Hang this on the wall in your workspace.

Lauren Carter continues to live and breathe her writing work in The Pas, Manitoba, while also coaching writers. Check out her online course Nine Simple Steps to a Solid Writing Practice in which she shares more of her mother’s artistic wisdom.

There’s No Such Thing As Writer’s Block

For days now I’ve been trying to get to the gym.

It’s been dreary out, the sky a dim purple-grey, and I can’t seem to shoehorn myself out the door.

What’s that called again? Jogger's Block?

Or, how about my reluctance to tackle my frat-boy style kitchen? House-cleaner’s Block?   

You know I’m being facetious but also: Truth.

We’d never think of excusing procrastination by wringing our hands and claiming there’s a big ol' brick wall in our way. And, worst of all: that we've got no idea why it's there or when it will leave.  

Don't get me wrong. I’m not saying that the experience of Writer’s Block isn’t real. It’s totally real. It’s just as real as my seeming inability to turn off Netflix and get off the couch in order to grab my runners and go to the gym.

But by calling it a block, we're allowing it to live, we’re giving it status. And that's not going to get anybody anywhere.

What we need instead is to take a good, hard look at what's really going on and try to find some solutions in order to answer that need to write. So here are a few reasons why the stride towards your writing space might have stalled - and some ideas for getting going again.

1. Abject Terror

This may be exaggerating (depending on where you’re at with your work) but I’m sure you know fear. There’s fear of failure, fear of success, fear of exposure (can I really say that about my parents), fear of the mistakes you’ll inevitably make, fear of the chaos of the first draft. At every stage of the writing process, it seems, there’s some sort of boogey man waiting to scare you out of your writing room.

You could spend hours, days, months, and yes, even years, negotiating with this fear, trying to identify it, analyze it, really get to know it. Or, you could accept it, and get to work.

But what if it’s not so easy? What if the blank page gives you heart palpitations and sweaty palms? What if it really is terror? Then you need to figure out a way to get out on stage rather than giving up on the stage all together. Try deep breathing exercises, mantras, building up your exposure to the fear-trigger (ie. setting a time and writing for just five minutes a day, then ten, then fifteen, etc.), or joining a group where the reason for getting together is to write.

The fear might never go away but do you really want it to win over your desire to write?  

2. Confusion

Midway through the first draft of your novel, a character arrives and takes over. She’s captivating and you know you want her to become a major player but how do you do that? Do you go back and start over? Do you write to the end? These are the kinds of circumstances that can stop you cold and make you say ‘Writer’s Block’ when really what you’re experiencing is, simply, confusion.

There are a couple ways around this. The first way is to keep working, making decisions on the fly, and coach yourself through by reminding yourself that you can always change it later.

The second is to take a break. Let your mind work it out. Stare out a window. Spend a few days skipping your writing time and opting instead to read good books and let other writers’ works inspire you and give you advice. Take notes. Think about it. And as soon as you have an inkling of a direction, grab onto that reign, and go. Don’t wait for the path to chart itself all the way to Atlantis. Just seize the faint flicker and let it lead you a bit further.

Whatever you do, don’t call it Writer’s Block and wait mindlessly to get past it as if it were a case of the flu. Down that road lies abandoned novels and years of wasted writing time.

3. Fear of Commitment

A lot of creative people are idea machines. They have no problem coming up with a dozen story outlines, a few screenplay ideas, hundreds of first drafts of short stories and poems. Some even bounce between disciplines: spending one week working on a photography show, the next painting doggedly, the next scribbling out  the first draft of a novel, only to abandon all of their projects when another great idea comes along.

They know they need to finish something but when they sit down to work on their novel on the day that knitting beckons, nothing comes and so comes the diagnosis: Writer’s Block.

What does it take to commit? It takes a willingness to invest past the highs of creation, when the story might be flying out effortlessly and writing is fun. It takes grit and a resolve to engage in the whole process: the chaotic bits, the fearful bits, the bits when you’d rather be out, attending another workshop.

Not being able to do this isn’t a block, it’s a decision. To change it: make the decision. Agree to show up. Don’t be scared away by the effort. Engage with it, knowing that a year or so down the line you’ll have something pretty big to show for all that hard work.

Lauren Carter is a writer of fiction and poetry with two books out (and four more in varying stages). Her online course Nine Simple Steps to a Solid Writing Practice has been called “visually beautiful and wise.” She also offers creativity coaching services and manuscript consultation. Visit her at www.laurencarter.ca

Translation: Art or Science?

When people hear the word translation, either they get confused and think you said “transition”, or they think it refers to verbal interpreting. So then, what exactly is translation?

Translation refers to taking a source text and rewriting it in another language using the same context and tone of voice. As easy as that sounds (just plunk it into Google Translate, right?), it’s surprisingly complex and translators actually need college and university training to become legitimate, accredited professionals. Plus, there’s a reason why even Google Translate often sounds wonky; translation isn’t an exact science, but more of a subtle art.

As translators, we can’t just translate word for word.

It’s impossible and would result in nonsensical gibberish. Every language comes chock-full of idioms and sayings that are unique to the culture and history of the speakers. “It’s a piece of cake”. “When pigs fly”. “There’s no use crying over spilt milk”. We have to account for context, because people often write vague sentences that could have multiple meanings. If you’ve ever seen those hilariously terrible translation mistakes, then it was probably a literal translation that woefully disregarded the sentence’s context.

So what, you might ask? Understanding what a text is trying to say is just as important as getting the right terminology down. Sure, it’s good to know when to use “truck” and when to use “lorry”, but it’s also pretty important to understand that “my fridge isn’t running” can’t be translated literally or you’d have some pretty confused refrigerator repairmen.

Once you (hopefully) understand what your source text is trying to say, now you’ve got to convey it in a way that reads naturally—as if it were originally written in that language (no easy feat!). Poorly done translations often end up being robotic and awkward, with none of the tone of voice and perspective of the original text—especially if the author added any sort of flair like sarcasm, slang, or double entendres that are dang near impossible to translate.

This is where the art factor comes in. You need a certain level of creativity to think of ways to get around the fact that “the Monday blues” doesn’t have an exact equivalent in any other language. You also need a strong command of the target language to be able to write in a readable and engaging way in order to do justice by the source text author—and not butcher their masterpiece.

Translators, against popular belief, aren’t just robotic humanoids looking up word after word in the dictionary to produce a completed text. While we do love our Merriam-Webster’s (maybe a little too much), translators also need to be strong writers in their maternal language. And what is writing, if not a form of art?

When you think of everything in the world that gets translated, it starts to click. Sure, there are mind-numbing translations of HR policies and car owner manuals, but books, poetry and screenplays get translated too. Hey, the Harry Potter series alone was translated into 68 different languages. That’s a hell of a lot of creative ways to say “Muggle”.

Power Q & A with Soraya Peerbaye

Q: What advice do you have for writers applying for grants?

A: I've been on all sides of the granting process - an applicant, a juror, and a grants officer. My advice is, show the writing that most vividly illustrates the challenge of your project. This doesn't necessarily mean writing that is done. What I look for as a reader is something that's really crackling, that's alive with questions, experiments, potential - even if it's rough.

Photo credit: Ayelet Tsabari

I think the part of the application of which writers are most suspicious is the project description. There's a general anxiety-slash-annoyance that this is a requirement that has nothing to do with art; that, especially in forms like poetry, it forces a thematic or even a political convention onto the work. The project is simply what is calling you at this moment in time - whether it's a story you need to tell, a curiosity about language, a new direction, or a deepening commitment to the process you've developed... It helps to remember that you're addressing other artists - don't we covet the opportunity to speak about our craft, in interviews, roundtables etc.? 

If you're unsuccessful - apply again. Trust me on this - keep writing and re-writing, and apply again. Or if you're convinced it's right, re-submit the same material - you may find that you'll be successful with another jury. It doesn't mean that the system is capricious - every jury has its own chemistry, its own sensibility; and at the end of the day, the funding is limited. Jurors (and grants officers) are often heart-broken about what they can't support.

All that said, the system isn't perfect. So - if you see something that isn't working, advocate. Arts councils in Canada have made progress towards greater diversity on our juries, but we still need deeper conversations about what we value in literature and literary criticism. We need to develop curiosity and fluency in a wider spectrum of genres, and for making art in a period of decolonization. Hold each other up.

About Soraya...

Soraya Peerbaye’s most recent collection of poetry, Tell: Poems for a Girlhood, won the Trillium Book Award for Poetry in English and was a finalist for the Griffin Poetry prize. Her first book, Poems for the Advisory Committee on Antarctic Names, was nominated for the Gerald Lampert Award; her poems have also appeared in Red Silk: An Anthology of South Asian Women Poets, and the chapbook anthology Translating Horses. She holds an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Guelph.

Power Q & A with Dorothea Helms

Q:     What is an important piece of advice you'd give to someone who wants to write professionally?

A:      Find out how to run a business. Yes, it’s left-brain stuff, but if you want to make a part- or full-time living from writing, you need to either consider and crunch the numbers, or pay someone to do it. 

In 1993, I started writing professionally, and during my first year, I made about MINUS $7.00 an hour. I had no idea how to evaluate the jobs that were offered as to whether they were worth doing, and I was ignorant of the daily business practices that would turn my money-losing hobby into a profitable business. 

In 1994, I qualified for a 42-week entrepreneurship course through an organization called Women and Rural Economic Development, and I completed the program. I learned how to price (including when to say no), market, invoice, keep a basic set of books, etc. – you know, the stuff we writers would love to ignore. My income shot up right away. Over the years, I zoomed ahead of the average writer in Canada, who still brings in a pitiful $25,000 annually, to regularly earning six-digit revenues. 

Writers whine about the left-brain practices, but realize we’re no different from any other businesspeople out there. I’m sure plumbers don’t love doing the paperwork that comes along with all of the above, but they do what they have to do. The advantage they have is that people don’t offer them the chance to sign their pipes rather than pay them. 

Advance your writing craft, for sure, but when it comes to making money from your passion, find out how to make money, period. 
    
More about Dorothea…

Dorothea Helms owns two freelance writing businesses: Write Stuff Writing Services (WSWS.ca) and The Writing Fairy (TheWritingFairy.com). A six-digit freelancer, she teaches workshops and courses on how to run a writing business, along with other topics. Dorothea is internationally published; has won numerous awards for nonfiction, fiction and poetry; and is a sought-after writing instructor and keynote speaker. Her work has appeared in LICHEN Arts & Letters Preview literary journal, The Globe and Mail, Chatelaine, Homemakers, Canadian Architecture and Design Magazine, and she has been featured twice on CBC Radio. She’s also often referred to as “a hoot.” 

Don't Give Yourself Away, Make 'Em Pay

For any writer who has ever felt almost mortally wounded when asked to offer up services for nothing - or close to nothing - you may see some of your sentiments echoed in my reply to a company that approached me about writing content for their website. 

If I am behaving like a diva, I blame the industry. I thank goodness for my top-notch clients; they know that a job well done isn't done for free. This isn't to say I've never done anything for free. On the contrary, I have done readings and work for causes I am passionate about without expecting a thing in return, but for the most part, that's not business. That's not writing for companies or organizations. That's writing I do for myself.

Without further adieu, my reply...

Hey Mr. X,

I hope you can understand if I decline your offer. You see, I feel it is sort of like asking Meryl Streep to audition for a Sharknado sequel. I'm not saying she wouldn't agree to do the movie - I wouldn't dare to speak for Meryl - but asking an actor of her considerable merits to audition for a film her repertoire shows she is clearly capable of handling is just poor form.

I have been in this insanely volatile and fickle industry - and surviving in it - for 11 years. In this time I've worked with global brands and multi-million dollar companies while also completing a graduate degree in Creative Writing and being published in genres ranging from non-fiction to fiction to poetry. I assume this is why you have contacted me: you've seen what I can do.

I've made a living out of writing, both as an artist and as a professional. I know you may not know this, but that's saying a lot considering a great many writers are forced to have part-time or day jobs. 

I get disheartened just thinking about that. So many talented writers are being forced to secure other types of work because people don't see the value in our time - in what we do and how hard it is despite the fact we make it look easy. It's understandable that a hefty sum of aspiring wordsmiths who want to write for a living fizzle out after a year or two - tops. 

It sucks, and we're often pitted against far less adept writers who are quite happy to work for exposure or meager compensation. 

Good for them, I guess, but I'm not one of these sorts. 

I suspect your requests were not unreasonable to some and that you will have no issue finding willing contributors, but when a professional of my  experience is made to feel like I have to wriggle my way out of relative obscurity, I'm - quite frankly - offended, which probably makes me a bigger diva than Meryl any day. Perhaps I'm more like Mariah Carey.

I'm OK with that. There's only one Meryl, there's only one Mariah and there's only one me, and we all deal with our business in our own way. You either take me or leave me. No middle ground.

I wish you luck in your search for writers.

Best,
Hollay

Creative Prostitution: What to Expect When You're Expecting to Write for a Living

The summer my family moved out of Toronto and north to small town Ontario, my parents sent my brothers and me off to Port Coquitlam, British Columbia to stay with our aunt and uncle while they oversaw the building of our new house.

It was the summer we ate so many freezies that their plastic slit the corners of our mouths. It was the summer my younger brother refused to bathe for days and had to be physically dumped in the shower. It was the summer that I read Francine Pascal's Sweet Valley High Sagas in three days.

Like many writers, this is how my writing life began: through the voracious, unquenchable need to read. So Pascal is not Thomas Hardy, but as the 10 year old only girl in an all male array of brothers and cousins, she was to me.

She was to me.

It was not the first summer I spent reading. As a child, you're usually at the mercy of your parents to supervise - or at least take you to- outings with school friends. Combine this with the fact I spent most of my summers at my grandfather’s cottage on the lake, and my friends from school may as well have been on Mars.

Me reading at my Gramps' cottage.

Oh boo-freakin-hoo. Poor me. Yeah, yeah. I know. As much as I love Hardy, I am no Jude and these are not the tragedies he wrote of. But these minor isolations are where my writing life began.

In part.

The other part I share with many writers. Namely, I'm a big baby.

That’s a cute way of saying that I feel raw to the world. Even encounters and feelings I’ve experienced before feel new almost every time, often painfully so, and I can either hold it in, or let it out in a long, self-indulgent wail.

And boy do I wail.

As a fledging writer, I filled at least 5 notebooks a month. Mostly drivel, of course, but it helped me realize what I was capable of. It made me feel powerful, and as a preteen who entitled her autobiography, Memoirs of a Fat Kid on Track and Field Day, I can’t tell you how incredible it is get a taste of invincibility.

It’s addictive.

When I told my conservative Islamic father I was dropping the idea of law school to become a writer, he asked me why I couldn’t just be a lesbian. Or a prostitute.

This response was the first of many like reactions.

Telling people I’m a writer is not always met with what I consider due awe and admiration of my craft. When my 7 year old nephew asked me what I actually do for a living – understanding that I am home all day and that I also claim to be working –he didn’t believe me.

“People don’t really do that. Not as a real job.”

If I’d told him I was an astronaut, I would have been met with less disbelief.

But writing is often an act of disbelief - in yourself, in the world - and I knew I’d never be happy doing anything else. 

The only other time I've felt this way is when I've come home from the ballet, mind full of music, gesture, grace, and danced around my nightly absolutions, face washed, arms poised, toes, tipped. Brain baffled and free. How lovely.

But not every night can be the ballet.

I’ve been writing professionally for over a decade, and if you’re writing professionally, full-time, chances are you’ve dabbled in or are dabbling in some form of creative prostitution.

For most people who write for a living, it’s not all sonnets and short stories; you’ve got to sell a bit of yourself. Or a lot of yourself, depending on the project.

Is it worth it?

Well, I get asked that a lot, and all I can say is it’s a personal call.

I know many writers who make their living in entirely unrelated fields (e.g. as software engineers) - or even semi-related fields (e.g. as professors or in communications)  – who work best when they save their writing time for their writing. The act remains pure, chaste, and relatively free of corruption.

I know others writers who rent out their minds (and sometimes, especially in the beginning when you can't always afford to be as choosy, a wee bit of their dignity) on an almost daily basis and are OK with that. Obviously, I fall into this category.

I can’t speak for others, but I can speak for myself when I say that my dignity is one thing, and my morality is quite another. While I have definitely written about topics that I deem trivial or silly, I have never written about anything I find morally objectionable.

Which isn’t to say I go into every project wholeheartedly believing in what I am hired to write about. I do a hell of a lot of ghostwriting, and though I always know that I can nail the content, it doesn’t mean I'm initially passionate about the topic. You can only write so much about BBC period dramas, body dismorphia and Bea Arthur.

I do, however, have faith in my powers of compassion. I have total faith in my empathetic abilities. If I agree to a project, I have no doubt I can get out of myself enough to look at it from another angle.  I can learn to see what others see.

I don’t think I could stomach hunting for sport, but writing for conservation-minded  waterfowling experts has made me see what they love about it.

I know my acceptance of mortality is far too fragile for me to work in the funeral business, but writing content for a company in the industry has given me a whole new understanding and deep respect for people who not only trod death’s terrain magnanimously, but help others navigate it too.

Even though I love playing poker, it wasn’t until I began writing for a truly inspired professional player and coach that I understood poker will always be a straight out gamble unless you develop the mental, physical and spiritual acuity outside of the game to carry you during play.

Creative prostitution forces me to write from perspectives and in voices that are totally foreign. It forces me into other worlds, and sometimes, uncomfortable corners. 

It has not only made me a better writer, you see, but a better person, so for me, it works. The juice is always worth the squeeze. And what a squeeze. 

Q&A with Dave Cameron

Q: What is one bad habit you'd encourage aspiring writers to ditch early in their career?

A: The other day I received a letter from the Sheriff’s Office. My name had been selected at random to be considered for inclusion in the Jury Roll. My heart stirred! I might get to preside with strangers over the retelling of a calamity. Even if the crime was minor, some details were sure to be sordid. If this seems callous of me, then I am callous by trade. Writers sometimes fail to get outside themselves; for that matter, they sometimes fail to leave the house. And here was a letter fallen from the cold blue sky offering possible escape.

I completed the included questionnaire to confirm my eligibility. As it turns out, several Criminal Code offences do not exclude a person from jury duty: Pretending to practice witchcraft. Failing to keep watch while towing a person on water skis. Buying a ticket in an unlawful game of chance. Being found in a bawdy house.

The list was long and enlightening, and fortunately I remain eligible. I sealed my response in the return envelope and zipped down the street to the post office. On the way home, I paused near the stoop of the local bawdy house... before continuing on with a sigh of relief.

Bad habits are never defeated absolutely. They are moving shadows to remain aware of and ahead of. Perhaps the writer’s most persistent darkness is a lack of faith. Is the work any good? Will it find an audience?

My letter from the Sheriff’s Office was a kind of pep talk. In the fullness of time, everyone’s name gets selected at random.

More about Dave...

​Dave Cameron won a gold National Magazine Award for his 2012 Walrus feature, "Fade to Light," about a man with dementia.

Q&A with Shoilee Khan

Q: What's your advice to writers with day jobs?

A: 1. Accept that the reality of your writing time will not live up to the image you've created. I've tried to balance my teaching and my writing by setting aside specific days in the week as sole writing days - no teaching, no appointments, no errands, just writing. I envision waking up, making breakfast, taking a walk in the wilderness, making a hot cup of tea, and settling into a day of writing with soft slants of sun stretching across my desk. This has happened one or two times. It could happen again. It's lovely and fulfilling when it does happen. But, on all the days that it does not happen - the days where I wake up too late, the days I sit at my desk for three hours and realize that I've eaten two sandwiches and written one paragraph, the days that the urgency to check my student emails, or mark student papers intrudes again and again and again, the days I find the evening burning out my day, my writing quota unsatisfied -- on these days, it's imperative to remember that the vision need not be reality for the writing, some writing, any writing, to get done. 

2. Stop comparing your productivity needs with the productivity practices of other writers. It's beneficial to know how other writers get their writing done, but understand that their practice may not be your practice. Some writers wake up two hours before work and write furiously until they have to leave for their jobs. Other writers write late into the night after their families have finally gone to sleep. Some steal parcels of time throughout the day. Some, like me, set aside specific days to write. You do not have to aspire to a single vision of productivity and feel that you are somehow failing if you cannot perform in the same way. If you are done by 7 pm, then so be it. Watch Netflix, eat an ice cream cone, and go to sleep. Wake up and write in the morning. If you are horrified by mornings, then write at a different time. Decide what will be tolerable for you, then make it work. If it doesn't work, then you try something else. In the midst of all that trying, some writing will happen, and eventually you'll find the regularity, or the right momentum for you. 

3. Realize that what once worked beautifully, may one day no longer suit you. At the beginning of the term, I set aside specific days to write. I was diligent about keeping work at work, prepping most of my lectures while I was on campus, and waking up on my writing days with only one goal: create. Then, the marking started trickling in. It was fine, I stayed on course. Then, all the marking poured in. I knew it would happen. I've been teaching for five years so this was no surprise. It's the inevitable drowning beneath student papers that strikes mid-October and is relentless until the end of term. But, my writing schedule had worked so well that I wanted to force the rest of my life to abide by it. I only grew more frustrated as the marking leaked into my weekends (first transgression), then into my evenings (second transgression), then finally, into my writing days (third and most horrifying transgression). I could say that marking was the problem (and maybe it is), but instead, I needed to accept that my set-up was not meeting my needs and I should readjust. This could mean sacrificing my writing days now to have a week of only-writing later. It could mean writing less on my designated days and accepting the presence of "non-writing" tasks on those days. Really, it would have to be whatever would yield the greatest potential for me to get any amount of writing done. 

4. Take time off. If having dedicated stretches of writing time is important to you and your work, and you are able (financially and otherwise), then plan to take time off as a working holiday. This could mean a few days, to a few weeks, to a leave of absence. Decide what you need and then see how you can go about making it happen. Some writers find a daily balance where the variety that a full, busy work day offers actually feeds their work. Others need long stretches of dedicated time to fully immerse and create. Some writers need both. If you can take some time off, try it - and do so, guilt-free. 

5. Abandon the guilt. Do not wallow in guilt after you shirk your writing commitment. If you are not practicing your craft the way you think you should, you can change your expectations, or you can change your practice. You should not try to flourish on guilt - it will prevent you from ever rising up again because it is meant to keep you down. Swallow exactly one spoonful of guilt if you must, let it be a quick shot of fuel, but then you burn it out, abandon it, and you begin again as many times as it takes. 

More about Shoilee...

Shoilee Khan currently teaches English in the School of Communication and Literary Studies at Sheridan College. She received her MA in English Literature from the University of Toronto and her MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Guelph. Her fiction has appeared in a diverse collection of magazines and journals, including Adbusters, Room Magazine, The New Quarterly, and Other Voices. Her short story, "The Kidney Connection" was nominated for the 2011 Journey Prize in Fiction and a chapter from her novel in progress won the 2010 Other Voices Fiction Contest. Most recently, she was a participant in the 2015 Banff Writing Studio at the Banff Centre for the Arts. 

Q & A with Tanis Rideout

Q: Tell us about the importance of research in making a novel work. Really work. 

A: I tend to write rather research intensive work – maybe because I enjoy that part of the writing process so much. I’ve been lucky. Research has afforded me the chance to travel to cities, to meet people, to spend time in places that I never would have otherwise. And there’s something about being in a place that your characters occupy or have occupied, I think, particularly if they are historical figures, but even if they’re people who exist in some version of the real world.

If you can walk down the streets that you characters walk down, look at the buildings, feel the air, it gives you new tools to draw them. You can understand how they move down the street, is it quick and easy, slow and painful? You realise what places sound like, what they smell like. All of which can be the things you don’t think of, if you’re conjuring a place entirely out of your head.

And it’s the small things, the weight of paper, the colour of ink, the size of envelopes – tiny things that have changed over time, or from place to place, that help to conjure a world in its entirety, I think. The right detail can do so much for a reader to build a world that they can believe in.

Of course, it means that as a writer I often know more than I could ever possibly incorporate, and knowing where to draw that line is hugely important, you don’t want to bog down narrative of character in too much research. And I hate reading stuff that feels like the writer is showing off how much research they have done. I want it to feel seamless. I want the world to feel wet with its own reality, is how I often think of it.

So yes, for me, the background work, the reading, the wandering, the staring, the chasing down strange bits of information, is hugely important. Without the characters, the ideas only exist in a vacuum.

More about Tanis...

Tanis Rideout is the author of a novel, Above All Things, which was long-listed for the Dublin IMAPC Award, a NYT Editor's Choice, and winner of ITAS Premio Montagna and a poetry collection, Arguments with the Lake. 

Q & A with Elisabeth de Mariaffi

Q: What's your advice for fictionalizing real life, and still making it true to (what we can know) about the actual events?

A: 

In The Devil You Know, I placed a very fictional character among very real events: my fictional news reporter, Evie Jones, finds herself covering the arrest of Paul Bernardo in February, 1993. That was fraught enough writing as it was, but Evie also has a back story – when she was eleven, her own best friend was abducted and murdered, and she’s also trying to solve this cold case on the sly, using the tools handed to her in her newsroom job. The lost girl, Lianne Gagnon, was a fictional mélange of the girls I remembered going missing from my own Toronto childhood, including high profile cases Sharin’ Keenan and Alison Parrott, among others. 

All of this caused me no small degree of anxiety. I wanted the book to do the work of elegy for these girls, but I also wanted to talk about the very real fear that my generation grew up with – it’s hard to talk about the fear without talking about the crimes and the media attention they inspired. 

One of the ways I coped with this was enlisting Evie as a witness, rather than actually casting her as a true-life character. As a reporter and researcher, Evie plays the role of the reader in the book: finding facts and interpreting them. Although I wouldn’t say so in every case, in this particular story, it was important to me not to co-opt any of the actual victim’s stories – so Evie remains a wholly made-up character. 

I tried to be careful about which details I included in the book. This was as much to avoid overwhelming the reader as it was to avoid sensationalizing the violence. I did as much research as I could bear, and picked and chose what might make it into the book. Dropping a few recognizable details increases the real-feel of the novel, and makes, I think, the fictional bits seem more true, as well. 

There are some really good examples of recent books that fictionalize a real-life person’s story: Sean Michaels’ Us Conductors  comes to mind, a novel loosely based on the life of Leon Termen, the inventor of the theramin; also Steven Galloway’s The Confabulist, a novel that imagines  Houdini’s life as a spy. Ultimately, as fiction writers, our job is to make sense of reality and try to explain it in narrative form, to try to create context and beauty at the same time. I don’t think we need conflate fiction with biography. What I mean is, it’s not supposed to be true, it’s just supposed to feel that way. 

More about Elisabeth...

Elisabeth de Mariaffi is the Giller Prize-nominated author of one book of short stories, How To Get Along With Women (Invisible Publishing, 2012) and the new novel, The Devil You Know (HarperCollins, Canada; Simon & Schuster, USA 2015).

Her poetry and short fiction have been widely published in magazines across Canada. In 2013, her story “Kiss Me Like I’m the Last Man on Earth” was shortlisted for a National Magazine Award.

Elisabeth now makes her home in St. John’s, Newfoundland, where she lives with the poet George Murray, their combined four children and a border collie — making them CanLit’s answer to the Brady Brunch.

Upccoming events! Catch Elisabeth at Vancouver Writers Fest this October. More information here: https://www.writersfest.bc.ca/2015/authors/elisabeth-de-mariaffi

Twitter: @ElisabethdeM
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/demariaffi
Web: www.elisabethdemariaffi.com

Q & A with Jeff Latosik

Q: What's your cure for writer's block?

A: Auden has this wonderful saying: “The great writer does not see through a brick wall; he just doesn’t build one.” Maybe writer’s block isn’t something we stumble into, that is, as a kind of sudden locked gate or wall in our process. Perhaps learning writing is just learning how not to build that wall.

So, how not to build the wall. It’s about how we think of things. If writer’s block is to be “cured,” for example, then perhaps we would prescribe the remedy as action. But perhaps writer’s block is just the mind turning and taking stock of its own machinery. It’s a tall order, but the idea here might be that all one needs to get out of writer’s block is to give up the idea that the work has to be a certain thing. 

More about Jeff...

Jeff Latosik is the author of Tiny, Frantic, Stronger, and Safely Home Pacific Western. 

Read some poems by Jeff in The Walrus. 

Q & A with Steven Heighton

Q: How is (or is) your writing process different for poetry than fiction? 

A: I write the first drafts of poems by hand, and rarely at my desk--I might be at the kitchen table, or sitting outside, or on a train, or in a bar or cafe.  The second draft does happen at the desk, where I key the rough draft into my laptop.  Then I'll print out that version and work on the thing by hand again, anywhere but at my desk, happily hacking away with my red uni-ball pen, crossing stuff out, scribbling illegible marginalia.  I go back and forth that way, between screen and page, until I can't take the poem any farther.  As for fiction, I used to write it by hand as well, though usually now I write my first drafts on the laptop, at my desk.  But after that point, my process is the same--I print out the story or novel and revise by hand in the margins, then go back to the screen, then the page, the screen, etc.   

 
But these are just dull logistical details.  To me, the more interesting difference between compositional modes is the ratio of pain and pleasure involved.  For me, working on a poem is always, on some level, a pleasure, and I think one of the main reasons is that there's no risk and hence no anxiety involved.  Why?  Because a twenty-line poem is a small thing, physically, and I know that if it doesn't work I can just walk away from it.  Also, the "career" stakes couldn't be lower.  Few people read poetry, so my livelihood can't and doesn't ride on it.  Fiction is different.  People do read it, and publishers sometimes pay decently for it, and you actually can make a modest living from it, if you have sufficiently low material aspirations.  So there's always a touch of anxiety there.  It's not just play.  Plus, it's simply hard to walk away from a botched piece of fiction without agonizing over all the time and effort you've spent.  To give up on a thirty page story, after months of work--as I've had to do at least twice now--is painful.  To walk away from a three hundred page novel you're struggling with after eighteen months or three years--that's just about unfaceable.  

More about Steven...

Steven Heighton’s most recent books are the Trillium Award finalist The Dead Are More Visible (stories) and Workbook, a collection of memos and fragmentary essays.  His 2005 novel, Afterlands, appeared in six countries; was a New York Times Book Review editors’ choice; was a best of year choice in ten publications in Canada, the USA, and the UK; and has been optioned for film.  His short fiction and poetry have received four gold National Magazine Awards and have appeared in London Review of Books, Tin House, Best English Stories, Best Canadian Stories, Poetry, Zoetrope, Agni, Best American Poetry, London Magazine, Brick, TLR, New England Review and, mysteriously, Best American Mystery Stories.  Heighton has been nominated for the Governor General’s Award and Britain’s W.H. Smith Award, and he is a fiction reviewer for the New York Times Book Review. 

Photo credit: Angie Leamen Mohr.

Q & A with Diane Schoemperlen

I've started a little series where I ask writers about the writing life.  Author and artist Diane Schoemperlen starts us off with some insight into the importance of routine.

Q: How important is it to you to set a scheduled time to write?

A: I am a wreck without my routine! It has developed over thirty years of writing and without it, I don’t think I could function. I am a morning person and every day (including weekends) I get up early and do some reading with my coffee. Then I must get right to work. If I don’t, I find I am exceptionally good at frittering the whole day away. I am at the computer by 9:00 a.m. at the latest. How long I actually work depends on the project. It can be anywhere from four to six hours at a stretch. On an ideal day the work period is then followed by a nap. But this doesn’t happen very often. Usually it is followed by errands, chores, and tending to the business of writing (as opposed to the actual writing.) I often work seven days a week. I only work in the evening under duress as that is my time to relax and recharge so I can do it all again tomorrow.

More about Diane...

Diane Schoemperlen is the author of twelve books, including three novels, one non-fiction book, and several collections of short stories. In 1998 she won the Governor-General’s Award for Fiction for her collection of illustrated stories, FORMS OF DEVOTION. In 2008 she received the Marian Engel Award from The Writers’ Trust of Canada. In 2012 she was writer-in-residence at Queen’s University in Kingston, Ontario. She is currently on the faculty of the Humber School of Writing Correspondence Program. Her most recent publication is BY THE BOOK: STORIES AND PICTURES, published by Biblioasis (Windsor, Ontario) in September 2014. She is currently working on a memoir to be published by HarperCollins Canada in April 2016. She lives in Kingston, Ontario. You can find her on Facebook and she has a website coming soon at www.dianeschoemperlen.com.

My Favourite Resources for Writers

Listen, no one is going to plant your butt in the chair and write for you, but these resources for writers can definitely help get the juices flowing. 

This list is by no means exhaustive. It does, however, reflect my personal favorites; they're where I go when I'm stuck, discouraged, or ready to hit the bottle hard at 2pm. 

The Top 5 Resources for Writers

1) Merriam-Webster.  I love words. I love what they reflect about the people using them, and I love learning about where they came from. This is why I love Merriam-Webster.com.  Not only is it an amazing online dictionary and thesaurus, but it has fun and informative games, quizzes and facts about vocabulary and language. (I subscribe to their Word of the Day, which delivers a new word to your inbox every day.)

Sure, I'm the kind of gal who would (and, OK, has) read the dictionary for fun, but MW offers more than just words. On many occasions it's rekindled my love for language and reminded me why I do what I do. 

2)  Writer's Digest. "Write Better, Get Published" - this is the tagline for Writer's Digest, and while I don't buy the implied guarantee, I do like their writing prompts - especially for my creative writing. 99.9% of the time, their prompts never make it into my published work, but it does get my head out of my own ass and offer a fresh start. 

They also have some pretty solid tips on how to make it as a freelancer. Just beware the hopeful novice writer: there are some pretty hard sells on this site - and outlandish claims. Example:

"Write a Breakout Novel in 2015"! Originally over $300, now only $49.98?! Well, cool my ink jets and colour me sold!

(If you want really good advice about getting published, read novelists Russell Smith's columns in the Globe and Mail. They give a hard, but compelling kick in the pants for any aspiring writer.)

3)  Walking Therapy. It's good to get out of your head. It's better to get out of the house or office. I find walking to get the mail, or to the shops for something for dinner or going to get my son from school will open my mind (and burn a few calories - much needed as a stress eater who works in very close proximity to a fridge).

4) Writer's Trust of Canada. From news on grants, and lectures, to intel on writer's retreats and scholarships, this is a great place to stop by, get informed and get inspired.

 5) Copy Blogger. Creative writers, put your scruples aside. We live in an age where content is King, and if you want to make it as a Writer (or even a 'writer'), at one point or another, you're probably going to have to sell yourself into a world of creative prostitution: you're doing something you technically love, but more often than not, it's loveless. 

You're just going through the motions - and this is OK. There's a pay off. Writing content for other people has made me a better writer. It's made me more diligent, more focused. It's trained me to sit down and write, write, write and edit, edit, edit until the job's done. No excuses. 

Sure, I take pride in my work (and God knows I learn a lot), but it certainly isn't something I'd write about without being hired to do so. 

I've found the emails and articles by Copy Blogger invariably beneficial as a content writer, and a as a capital 'W' writer. It forces me out of my comfort zone, and accepting the work gets me to explore topics I would never have delved into on my own. Like here. And here and here and here. 

Copy Blogger helps content writers find ways to engage their audiences across the board - and this is going to be an invaluable writing resource if you want to write for a living.

And there aren't many writers who get to make a living writing about what they want, all the time. All of us have to rent ourselves out now and then, which is not to be confused with selling out. 

You don't have to write about anything that's against your moral code, but you do have to write. Writers don't just hang out in coffee shops and bars, waxing poetic, they actually have to produce...you know...words. 

That's where these resources for writers come in. They'll help, Trust me. 

Have your own favourite resources for writers? Tell me about them in the comments below. 

Mum’s the Word: Keeping Quiet on the Homefront to Avoid Professional Discrimination

It’s around 8pm and I’m beat. Beyond beat. In fact, I’m so beat I’m forcibly having to drag my slippered and jammie-clad carcass around the house to turn off the lights and lock doors – and this is when Joel calls. Joel is one of my longest standing clients and a guy I’ve come to admire and genuinely like over the years.

He’s straight to the question.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had kids?”

I’m silent. It’s taking me a minute to unpack what he’s asking.

“You’ve met my wife, right?”he says. “My kids?”

This I can answer. “Yes.”

“So how come I never knew you even had kids? I mean, you just had a baby!”

This call is beginning to give me the same sickening feeling I used to get when my Dad called and I was out past curfew with my friends. Where is this coming from?

He answers my question before I can ask. “I found you on Facebook.”

Up to this point, Joel had been fairly disinterested in the Internet and vehemently anti-social media – so anti-social media that he hired me to manage his home-based fitness business’ social media presence. I’m still absorbing this revelation when he goes on.

“Three kids, no less. This means that during the time you’ve been working with me, there were three times you were pregnant for nine months. Three times you gave birth and must have needed or wanted a week or month off, and you never took it. You never even mentioned it to me.”

Joel and I have met in person periodically, but most of our communication is done via text, email or phone calls. So his not seeing me pregnant is completely plausible. His not seeing me pregnant is actually more than completely plausible; it’s been preferable.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve never refused to meet a client while pregnant. I’ve even been known to bring a baby to a meeting if I couldn’t avoid it. But if I can avoid it, I will.

I’ll avoid it because I’ve wanted to avoid any negative assumptions about my ability to do my job. If I can’t do a meeting because I have to get my kids from school or I’m taking the baby to the doctor, I don’t say that: I say I have something else scheduled. It’s not a lie. The reason I can’t is also none of anyone’s business because it doesn’t affect my ability to do my business. Clients still have their deadlines met, earths shattered, and minds blown. My kids still have their lunches bagged, princess dresses mended and Stegosaurus fished out of the toilet. All in a day’s work.

I’ve been in my field for over a decade, and I’ve been pregnant and/or raising small children for five of those years. Some of my clients actually do know this; these are usually the clients who’ve outright asked if I have children, and I can’t actually say any of them have expressed concern, or anything but their casual interest in my family’s well-being. Still, I don’t make it a point of conversation. So why?

Because even though I’ve been fortunate enough not to experience it first-hand, I know discrimination exists. Women who are pregnant or have families – particularly young families – are often undermined oroverlooked professionally, no matter how talented or qualified they are. (Even though studies show that women with kids are more productive than…well, everyone.)

But Joel’s upset, and my shame-faced reaction to his agitation is making it clear to me that in this case, ‘the man’ is not the problem; I am.  By worrying about what people think a woman is capable of doing professionally simply because she is also a mother, I am contributing to the prejudice I am trying to escape. My silence on the subject of my children is saying I have something to hide. Worst of all, because I did not feel strong enough in my professional identity to confidently push-back against discrimination, I was implying the prejudice is right.

And it’s not.

In many cases, my family status simply won’t come up. I have one client whose essays I’ve edited from her undergraduate degree until now, as she finishes up her doctoral dissertation. She doesn’t know I have kids, but that’s not the vibe we have. I’ve never met her in person, and while we cordially inquire as to one another’s health, we don’t get personal.

But Joel is different. I have met his wife.  I have met his kids. He knows I love trail running, marshmallows and the Golden Girls. He knows the scar on my eyebrow is from when I opened a car door into my face after racing my brother for the front seat of the car. When I was 20 years old. He knows I won’t do chin ups anymore—no matter how much he goads me—because I feel I’m going to pee myself. But I didn’t tell him this bladder-related phenomenon has only happened since having children.

He’s right: I haven’t said a word about my children at all and there have been plenty of openings where this information would have been welcome.

I say, “I’m sorry, Joel.” And I mean it. I’ve been evasive when I should have been true to our vibe. No, his not knowing I had kids didn’t impact the quality of my work, but it did affect his assessment of our relationship – and good business is all about building and nurturing relationships. Up to that point, Joel thought we were on the same page.

“Really, Joel,” I say again. “I’m sorry. It’s just…”

“It’s OK,” Joel cuts in, and laughs. “I mean…you know…I would’ve sent you a gift basket or something.”

Update: Since writing this blog, Hollay has had another child.