It will come as no surprise to anyone that it’s exceptionally hard to earn a living as a writer. Brendan Behan once said, ‘The number of people who buy books in Ireland would not keep me in drink for the duration of Sunday opening time.’ Times, of course, have changed and there are many more people in Ireland buying books, but there are more writers selling books too. James Shapiro, one of the judges who selected four Irish writers for this year’s Booker Prize longlist, spoke glowingly of ‘an island which has invested in literary culture,’ but clearly didn’t realise that the north of the island has been flagellated with arts cuts. Here are a few aperçus, quips and tips on literary survival based on the words of the greats.
Save money where you can. This can be as extreme as you like. Joe Orton, for instance, used to go to bed at sunset and rise at dawn to write in order to save on the electricity. Philip K Dick was so poor he ate dog food (possibly Winalot, given his later fame). The cost of writing can be prohibitive itself - I tend to burn through hard drives like a sex-addict through condoms. However, I do save money by asking my local repair man to install old versions of Word and free internet security. It’s heartening to know that many writers who were perceived to be successful struggled financially. Take George Orwell who said, ‘There is only one way to make money at writing, and that’s to marry a publisher’s daughter.’
Develop side hustles. There is always the option of teaching writing, even though it seems counterintuitive for us writers to create a posse of clones in our image or reveal the subtle secrets we’ve learnt through decades of trial and error. Most of us could probably fit what we know into one two-hour class, but spin it out to six for the cash. It’s in our interest to uphold the mystique of writing, but some writers are refreshingly honest such as Anthony Burgess, who said of writing a novel, ‘I start at the beginning, go to the end, then stop.’
Keep producing books. This is a matter of personality. You can either go down the Anna Burns route which takes many painful years on the dole to create a masterpiece or emulate Henry James who wrote over a hundred books. I’d certainly advocate going prolific and staying in the public eye as much as possible - my own motto is ‘write fast, worry later’. Stalin said, ‘Quantity has a quality of its own,’ and although he was talking about military strategy, it can equally be applied to artistic strategy. Above all, don’t be the type of writer who keeps giving progress checks on Twitter like ‘I wrote 500 words this morning,’ as if charting your progress up the Matterhorn. Words should be inspired – they’re not like steps on a Fitbit.
Associate with other top writers. Create some hype around yourself by claiming you’re in some high-powered hypergroup. I’m from east Belfast and, alongside Wendy Erskine, Glenn Patterson, Jan Carson and others, you could say we’re part of a modern Bloomsbury Set, only in our case it’s the Bloomfield Set. Of course, I only ever bump into Wendy Erskine down the crisp section of the Co-op rather than in a literary salon, but it still counts.
Be strategic. Keep an eye out for funding applications. The Arts Council of Northern Ireland has helped me survive (less so now due to the arts cuts) and I’ve been financially rescued by the Peggy Ramsay Foundation. The occasional contribution from the Authors’ Licensing and Collecting Society has been invaluable too. Naturally, you can always get a day job – Flann O’Brien, myself and more recently Donal Ryan were civil servants – but most writers are pretty unemployable. The best job I ever had was drinker-in-residence at the Lyric Theatre, whilst William Faulkner said the best job ever offered to him was a landlord in a brothel, adding, ‘I think it’s a perfect milieu for an artist to work in.’
Invest in the future. Remember to keep hold of all your old manuscripts as you might be able to sell them at a later date to an American archive. I’ve donated some of my archive to the Linen Hall, but I really hope Emory or some other college in the US contacts me soon as I’ve so many manuscripts in drawers, I’ve no more room for my underwear!
Don’t be distracted from writing. All of us fall prey to this from time to time. The biggest distraction used to be Cyril Connolly’s ‘the pram in the hall’ but nowadays it tends to be the porn on the phone. I use constant delaying tactics myself while I write like looking up synonyms online. I’ll even look up the synonym for synonym.
Be memorable. You should do this primarily through your writing, but don’t neglect those snappy soundbites in interviews. Writing should be a celebration of cerebration. If people laugh at you, too bad. It was André Gide who said ‘Fear of ridicule begets the worst type of cowardice.’ Never fear a backlash, a tongue-lash or accusations of being arrogant. You should be larger than life if you want to be prima inter pares, and there’s nothing wrong with being an exhibitionist as long as it doesn’t morph into folie de grandeur. Susan Sontag pointed out that ‘my ‘I’ is puny, cautious, too sane. Good writers are roaring egotists, even to the point of fatuity.’ Look at the most memorable writers of the past and learn from them. Was Johnny Depp’s recent literary pilgrimage to the house of Mrs B Oring of Dublin 4? No, it was to the home of a writer unforgettable in word and deed, Dylan Thomas.
Stay sane. Laugh a lot and don’t ever think about what other writers are earning. I can’t resist a chuckle when I see a writer projecting glamour by boasting in his bio, ‘He divides his time between London and Berlin’ - the truth is he’s probably dividing his time between the various corners of his bedsit. It’s still possible to survive, especially if you have the wit of Dorothy Parker: ‘I’d like to have money. And I’d like to be a good writer. These two can come together, and I hope they will, but if that’s too adorable, I’d rather have the money.’ Remember that every new book you write can win the literary lottery, so keep the words flowing, keep the faith and, most of all, keep her lit(erary)!
Rosemary Jenkinson’s latest collection of short stories is Love in the Time of Chaos published by Arlen House. It is longlisted for the Edge Hill Short Story Prize.
