Since today is my birthday — and I’ve spent most of it applying endlessly for part-time jobs — I figured I could dust off the blog and get started with a small post.
Two days ago, I had a Skype conversation with my sister. Our father had mentioned to her that I wanted to be an author, but was also trying to get into publishing. Her reaction, as she explained to me, was the following: “Oh, that is one of the saddest things I’ve ever heard. It’s heartbreaking that Julie’s breaking her back to get into publishing books, but she’s not doing what she wants to do — what she really wants to do is write books. That’s terrible!”
Well… true and not true.
My entire university career revolved around talking about others’ books, after all. I really do think fiction is important. The stories we choose to tell — and choose to consume — are like a little snapshot of our culture and our values; they’re a strange, inverted lens through which to view humanity and what we find important. I think exposing people to good literature is important. It can last for hundreds of years. It’s an enduring legacy, a marker of our day. I hope that most people understand this. I’ve spent far more time reading others’ books than I’ve spent writing my own, and I don’t view that as wasted time, or as a pale shade of what I’d really like to be doing.
© lorena*arance (flickr)
So, yes: it’s true that if I won the lottery tomorrow, I would love the opportunity to finally sit down & churn out these novel ideas I have in my head, unimpeded by petty constraints like “how do I pay rent, how do I eat”.
But in all honesty? If I won the lottery tomorrow, I could imagine still scooping up unpaid publishing internships, too. Because this career path that I’m exploring, it’s not a deeply dissatisfying second choice or last resort, it’s not a disappointment, it doesn’t represent crushed dreams — it actually is what I want to do, in addition to writing. Because my passion is books! Anything and everything to do with books! And getting good books read! Whether that means getting my own published (because I think they would be good, okay) or helping other quality texts get published. Whatever it takes. As long as I get to play a role in this industry, and be surrounded by other people who care about literature as much as I do.
So, no. It’s not sad or heartbreaking. It’s what I genuinely want to do.
small wegie, big city 