If You Skip a Friend’s Book Launch Are You the Literary Asshole?

You know what time it is! That’s right, we’re back for another blessed installment of that hit advice column, Am I the Literary Asshole?, a place where good friends come together to look at questions drunkenly on the internet. I’m Kristen Arnett and I run this show, albeit through the bleary lens of four to six beers. I feel like it gives the place a smeared, homey glow.

I’m away at a residency this month, but that won’t stop me from answering your burning questions (and it won’t stop me from drinking, either). Hopefully I’ll get some writing done, but hey, let’s not hold our breath.

I’ve got some boxed wine at the ready and your questions handy. Let’s get right to it, shall we?

1) Here is my question: Is writing the pursuit of the rich? I’m trying to become a full-time writer and find it difficult to do so because of bills and my current job status (I work two part time jobs). I want a full-time role but I also want to pursue writing. I dream of being a published author lecturing at a college or university, and traveling around the country discussing my work. But it feels like a pipe dream. I envy those who can do it. What are your thoughts or suggestions on increasing my writing income?

Hi, friend. You’ve written in with my favorite kind of question—one that’s really many questions presented all at once! If we peel back one question, we find another, then another, then another. Kind of like nesting dolls or a very pungent onion, but for seeking writing advice.

So, to start off, I’ll state the obvious. Writing is not just a pursuit of the rich. I mean, granted, it very well could be. Many people write! Lots to unpack here. One question you’ve presented is “can I write” and another is “can I find time to write” and another is wondering “can I make a living as a writer” and another question is “tell me how to do it.”

These things can touch each other, sure, but they are also very separate questions with their own litany of answers attached. So, I think the easiest way to make our way down this particular rabbit hole will be to try to answer these questions all lumped together.

Let’s take a bite of the onion!

So, I feel like what you’re asking is how to get from A to Z in publishing, but without necessarily considering all of the letters that sit squashed in the middle. Almost no one wakes up and decides “hey, I’m going to be a full-time writer” and then immediately has that job. I can answer this from the perspective of someone who worked a full-time job in libraries starting at age nineteen until just a few short years ago, when I was lucky enough to be able to make writing my career. But hey, there was a ton of stuff that happened in-between those two things. I worked eight-hour plus days, I went to night school, I came out, I submitted to literary journals, I raised a kid. I looked into writing workshops. I sent out query letters to agents. I ran a household as a single parent. I wrote a book. I did all of this, all together, all at once.

Mostly, my life felt like I was carving out tiny pockets of time to write. Little slivers. Very early mornings before work, late night after classes. The stars aligned, I connected with the right people. I found my literary agent, I found my publishing house. But that didn’t happen overnight. It took time. It still takes a lot of time and effort.

It’s totally possible to make a writing career happen and then have it support you financially. But I will tell you (and I think many others will agree) that it’s a hard job. Ask anyone who freelances: it’s difficult, incredibly stressful work. Your last sentence, the one about increasing your writing income? That’s a question I think only you can really answer, because it’s according to what you’re willing to do to get paid. You haven’t mentioned anything here about what attracts you to writing other than money. You have not talked about work as something you love or enjoy.

You’re describing a fairy tale scenario, one where you lecture and travel, but there’s nothing here about sitting down and actually writing your book. It’s tough out there for anyone in the arts. I would ask you to consider your work not as a monetary object, but rather as something you care for and put time and energy into. Writing is something you cultivate. When you care for your own work and want to see if grow, other people start to care, too.

Hopefully this helps.

I’m going to pour myself another glass of this (admittedly warm) boxed wine and move along to our next caller.

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2) Am I the literary asshole if I’m not interested in reading poetry?

We’re getting some exciting questions today, aren’t we?

I don’t want to say you’re an asshole, because I think that’s not the actual situation at hand. I want to instead take a minute to think about what you mean here when you use the words “not interested.”

As I’ve stated in this column before, a thing that makes art interesting is that everyone involved is different. Different tastes, different ideas. Different processes and feelings and backgrounds. We get such a wide and fruitful variety of literary arts because a vast assortment of wildly different people contribute to the collective. That’s exciting! That’s a great, powerful thing.

So, maybe you’re a person who’s more into fiction. Maybe you prefer essay collections. Maybe you only like to read celebrity memoirs. That’s all totally fine and good! Everyone has preferences. Everyone likes to read different things.

I think issues arise when someone begins to think that because they prefer one thing that means a different thing is bad. You can like fiction better than poetry, sure, but it doesn’t mean that poetry isn’t wonderful. And hey, you didn’t say that here. You merely said you weren’t interested.

But, if I may, I’d like to urge you to occasionally dip your toe back into the poetry pond. It’s good for your reader’s brain to experience new things outside of your tried and true favorites. It can be soothing to watch your favorite show on repeat, but you’re not learning anything new. Same goes for art. And saying all poetry is the same would be like saying every single novel is the same, which would be very silly indeed. Instead of being uninterested, my friend, please try to stay curious. Maybe ask your reader pals for recs that they think you might enjoy.

Onward! I think I’ve got another glass left of this lukewarm wine, so let’s keep on trucking.

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3) Hi, Kristen! Wanted to ask if it’s considered Literary Assh*le behavior to skip a good friend’s book launch? I mean, I’d understand if there were extenuating circumstances—giving birth, out of town, illness, death in the family—but to just not show up and never say anything about it feels rude to me. What do you think?

Oh yikes! You haven’t said so explicitly here, but it sounds like someone in your life messed up.

Someone you care about missing your book launch would be tough. I think what might make it worse would be if they missed it and then never said anything about it. The person you’re describing isn’t an acquaintance, either; you’ve said they’re a “good friend,” which means that if they’ve got nothing terribly pressing going on, they should be there to support you. At the very least they should apologize for missing it.

I mean, it’s possible something happened that you don’t know about? Maybe something private that the friend hasn’t shared because it was too overwhelming. But if it’s a case of “oh, I just didn’t feel like going,” then I’m going to call this one on account of assholery.

If you’re going to miss your good friend’s book launch, just text them about it! And apologize. We’ve all been there.

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And that’s it for today, folks. Join me next time when I answer more of your anonymous questions and I cut open this box of wine so I can squeeze the remaining dregs of liquid down my throat.

And send me your Qs!!!

It’s a red blend,

Dad

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Are you worried you’re the literary asshole? Ask Kristen via email at AskKristen@lithub.com, or anonymously here.