How to Sleep Late, Do What You Enjoy, and
Make a Ton of Money as a Writer!
by Jim Denney
Here's what working writers say about Quit Your Day Job:
Jim Frey, author of How to Write a Damn Good Novel:
"Most career-bent writers are destined to struggle. Read Denney’s book and save yourself much of the anguish."
Angela Hunt, author of The Canopy:
"Wow!The definitive primer on freelance writing. If you think the writer’s life is for you, you must read this book."
Deborah Raney, award-winning author of A Scarlet Cord and Beneath a Southern Sky:
"Jim Denney has written a book that every writer and every aspiring writer should own. Extremely well-organized, up-to-date information."
James Scott Bell, award winning novelist and Writers Digest contributing editor:
"Follow Jim Denney’s suggestions and you will be well on your way to making the dream a reality."
Read an excerpt from Chapter 1
"If a young writer can refrain from writing, he shouldn't hesitate to do so."Poet-Dramatist André Gide
"If you can be discouraged, you will be discouraged. Quit now and you'll save a lot of time."
Novelist David Gerrold
I was nine years old when I wrote my first short story as a class assignment. It was a three-page suspense story about an innocent man escaping from prison. My teacher read it to the class. Later that same school year, I wrote a story about a rocketship crashing on Mars-and at that point I knew I wanted to write for a living.
At age eleven, all I wanted for Christmas was a toy printing press I had seen on TV. I had big plans. I'd write my own books, set them up in type, staple them together, and become an eleven-year-old author-publisher. On Christmas morning, there it was—my own printing press, made of red and yellow plastic, with a bag of rubber letters you positioned by hand. Problem was, there was only enough type for five or six sentences (in ALL CAPS yet). I could scarcely set one complete thought in rubber type before I was out of E's and O's.
My favorite haunt was the public library. I even loved the smell of a library. Some would say it's a musty odor, a whiff of old vellum and bindery glue. But to me, it's the scent of adventure, discovery, and endless pleasures on long summer afternoons between the fifth and sixth grades.
I've always loved the feel of a book in my hands. The weight of a book is the substance of an author's thoughts pressing against your flesh. Old books are the best—books printed by the antique letterpress method, from type cast in hot metal on Linotype machines. Run your fingers over the page and you can feel the indentations made by the metal letters as they pressed the ink into the paper. Those books always held a holy fascination for me. They were filled with words so important and so powerful they were cast in metal and assembled on the page in soldierly rows.I started writing for pay as soon as I left college. Throughout my twenties and early thirties, I pursued my craft as a sideline on evenings and weekends, writing for magazines and newsletters. By age thirty-six, I had six published books to my credit. When people asked me what I did for a living. I would hesitate, then say, "I have a graphic arts business-typesetting, illustrating, advertising—"
Notice, I did not say, "I'm a writer." Even after six published books, I didn't see myself as a writer, but as someone who wanted to be a writer someday.
But that was the year I was forced to either become a writer or let go of the dream. It was 1989, and I saw that our graphic arts business would soon be put out of business by emerging desktop publishing technology. My choices were clear: I could either jump into writing with both feet, or I could take a day job in an ad agency somewhere. I had already been self-employed for ten years, so the insecurity of self-employment didn't trouble my sleep. But I also had a wife, two small children, and a mortgage, so I knew it wasn't going to be easy.
While pondering my decision, I called a couple of writers I knew. Both had been freelancing for more than ten years, so I asked their advice. The first one, Al, had over thirty books to his credit, both as a ghostwriter and a sole author. He had no encouragement to offer me. "You called me just as I'm quitting the freelance life and going in-house as an editor," he said. "I'm still writing on the side, but I need a steady paycheck. I just can't take the uncertainty anymore. You want my advice? Don't even think of fulltime writing unless you have at least a year's worth of living expenses saved up. Better yet, two years' worth."
The second writer I called was Bob, a veteran freelancer with over five million copies of his various titles in print. Despite his success, he wrote in his spare time, evenings and weekends, and he urged me to do the same. "Don't quit your day job," he told me. "Write in your spare time and make sure you have a regular paycheck." Not much encouragement there either.
Around the same time, I exchanged emails with an award-winning science-fiction writer. "You're going full-time?" he wrote. "Hope you have a high tolerance for insecurity." He told me that the bank had taken back his house during his second year as a fulltime writer—but he wished me luck nonetheless.
Each of those writers had given me sound advice which could be summarized as, Don't even think about writing for a living. They had been there. I knew they were right—but I didn't follow their advice. I couldn't. I had come to the realization that I had to write. So I did. Fourteen years later, I'm still here, still pounding out books for a living—and I haven't missed a house payment yet.
But it hasn't been easy.
Right up front, I want to give you the same advice those other writers gave me when I first set out on this journey: If you can live without being a writer, if you can be happy and satisfied doing something else for a living—then do something else. I mean that sincerely. Don't quit your day job if you can do anything else with your life and still be happy. You shouldn't write for a living unless you simply can't do anything but write.
Since I was a boy, I have known that I have to write. If you're nodding your head, if you know what I'm talking about, if you, too, have to write, then this book will speed you on your journey.
Living on Grub Street
There is no more disgruntled pilgrim on Grub Street than an author of a freshly published book. The labor is over but the torment has just begun, as the newborn creature is wrenched untimely from the nest. ''Mind-children,'' Mary McCarthy named the author's progeny. ''Product,'' the industry calls them, or ''stock,'' as in ''signing stock'' at a bookstore ''drop in.''
Carol Brightman, "Sweet Chaos, Fat Trip"
New York Times, March 7, 1999In the Moorfields section of London is a street now called Milton Street. But before 1830, it had another name: Grub Street. Famed as a hub for impoverished literary hacks, Grub Street was once described by Dr. Samuel Johnson as "much inhabited by writers of small histories, dictionaries, and temporary poems." Dr. Johnson should know. After quitting his poorly paid job as a schoolmaster, he served a stint as a Grub Street hack himself, before rising to literary prominence in the mid-18th century.
Today, Grub Street is a metaphor describing all of us in this honorable but underpaid community of working writers. By "working writer," I mean a person who is a full-time, freelance writer by trade. A "working writer," as I use the term, is not someone who has a job with a newspaper or magazine, and draws a paycheck every two weeks. I'm not disparaging such people, because they certainly do work and they certainly do write. But as I define the term "working writer," I've got to draw the line somewhere, and that's where I draw it. By my definition, a working writer is one who gets paid by the piece or by the contract, who draws no salary or benefits, and who is completely self-employed.
I'm a Grub Streeter myself—cheerfully and proudly so. I am a working writer, a freelance wordsmith, and a good one. Writing is my day job, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
One thing I've noticed as a writer is that, when people find out what I do for a living, they often say, "I always wanted to be a writer," or, "I bet I could write a book if I put my mind to it."The people who tell you such things might be pizza delivery guys or doctors or astronauts, yet they all admire writers. They all have a secret wish that they could write. They all think they could do what you do if they had the time or the opportunity or if their lives were different somehow.
But you know what? I've never met a writer anywhere who wanted to be anything other than a writer. Take any person who says, "I am a writer," and I don't care how penniless he is, how long it has been since his last paycheck, how much he struggles with self-doubt, writer's block, and unreasonable deadlines—he does not, even for a moment, consider changing jobs. Why? Because writing is not a job. It's a mission. It's a calling. It's more essential to your soul than a career. It is not just your profession—it's your identity.
A computer programmer can go to seminary and become a preacher. A school teacher can tender her resignation and become an exotic dancer. But can a writer give up writing and become something else? Unheard of! Writing is not what you do, it's who you are! If you are a writer, there is nothing else to be.
If you know in your bones what I'm talking about, if you know that you have to be a writer, then you must write. You only get one life, and the life you've been given is made up of a finite number of heartbeats. Between your first heartbeat and your last is a brief span of time in which you are permitted to write your books and speak your piece. When your time is up, they will put you in a box and throw you in a hole to make room for the next writer waiting in line on Grub Street.
Now is your time, my friend. If you're going to write your books, you'd better get at it.
"But," you ask, "what about my age? Am I too young to be a fulltime writer? Am I too old?" Whatever age you are, right now is the time to go for it. If you are young—say, in your twenties—you have the advantage of having fewer debts and responsibilities to tie you down and restrict your options. If you are in your forties or beyond, then you have a whole different set of advantages, including a wealth of experience and accumulated wisdom.Science-fiction writer David Brin is the author of such books as Earth, Kiln People, and The Postman (which was made into a motion picture starring Kevin Costner). Brin earned a Ph.D. in Space Physics at UC San Diego and held positions with the Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Pasadena and NASA's Specialized Center of Research and Training (NSCORT-Exobiology) before he turned to writing science-fiction. He gained an enormous amount of life experience before turning to fulltime writing.
"Writing is a worthy calling," Brin told me, "but it was not my first choice as a profession. I wanted to be a scientist, foremost, and I became one through hard work. I also had this hobby—writing—that provided a lot of satisfaction. I always figured that I'd write a few stories a year, and a novel every few years, while mainly working to become the best scientist and teacher I could be. But it turned out that I'm much better at making up vivid stories than I ever was at discovering new truths as a scientist. At least, that's what people say—and they sure pay me better to write novels than they ever did to do science!"
So there's no such thing as being too old to turn to writing as a career? "Of course not," Brin says. "The best writers I know did something else for many years first. They lived life and did useful things and interesting things, before presuming to preach and write about the human experience."
The net-net: Whether you're young or old, don't let age hold you back. If you are young and unencumbered, you have little to lose by giving it a shot. And if you are older and more experienced, you have a lot to offer the world as a fulltime writer. Either way, now is your time. What are you waiting for?
Copyright © 2004 Jim Denney
To order Quit Your Day Job, call the publisher, Quill Driver Books:
1-800-497-4909
You can also obtain the book from your local bookstore
or online through Amazon.com or Barnesandnoble.com.