When I grow up, I want to be a fictional writer
They have it all, don’t they? Writers on TV shows and in films spend their days swanning about, visiting bookshops, eating their bodyweight in muffins without gaining an ounce of weight, drinking coffee like it’s water and their bladders are made of iron. Their time is their own. Even when they seem to have a ‘job’ they still seem to be able to take endless breaks and wander around parks having deep thoughts.
How is this possible? Where is all the money coming from to pay for rent and utilities? Who pays for all those coffees and muffins? Sure, they probably use credit cards, but that bill also needs to get paid, right? Or is there some debtor’s prison somewhere filled with broke writers who maxed out their credit cards on pastries and caffeine?
Meanwhile, back in the real world, I’m waking up at 5 am, or trying to, to squeeze in a bit of writing time before spending all day helping students get better at their own writing. I’m also trying to get in some time at my drawing desk, and get in a short workout so my muscles don’t atrophy from all the sitting I do all day. Then there’s the housework, and walking the dog, and doing the shopping, and occasionally leaving the house to actually socialize with people. And I’m single with no kids! I have it easy!
Not that I’m averse to work. I love my job and I love my students, who range from philosophers and astrophysicists to doctors, sociologists and future policy makers. They are all so young and hopeful and still believe there is enough good in this world to bring us back from the brink of whatever doom scenario the papers are spouting this week. They balance out my jaded cynicism. And they provide me with a bunch of useful stuff for my writing!
Still. When I see yet another film where a cute music reviewer meets up with an aspiring novelist and they spend endless hours wandering around beautiful places eating croissants and drinking wine with nary a stubbed toe in their fashionable boots, or worried look at their pristine top-of-the-line smart watch - when I see that, I do start to turn into a bit of a green-eyed monster. Not because of the designer clothes and gadgets, mind you, but what a life it would be to have all that extra time to write!
Of course, we know why fictional writers spend their time mooching about in designer clothes with the latest iPhone and perfectly done hair. They have to sell the film, because people who watch films about writers know that if the writer looks like what most writers really look like at home, then they are probably a villain and might very well kill you (Secret Window anyone?). Also, the day of a writer would be a little boring to see on screen. Let’s be honest. I’m pretty sure no one wants to see me sitting at my computer for three hours in my dressing gown chugging cold coffee and scratching my head every so often.
But sometimes, just sometimes, I wish I could be a fictional writer. My house would always be clean. My writing space would be inviting and tidy. My dog would walk herself, and my coffee cup would always be steaming, nestled in a selection of muffins and biscuits. Best of all, I’d have all the time in world to write, and all my obligations would just take care of themselves. What a blissful life this could be.
But it's taken years for them to recover from that awful Misery film, poor dears. Although, I heard that fictional non-fiction writers have it harder: less swanning, no cookies, fewer kisses, poor toner quality, and even a hangnail or two.
Bingo!