For A Living

The idea of writing for a living is a broad and malleable one. Writing is such a wide field that it has its hands in almost every other line of work. There are business writers, technical writers, science writers, education writers , art writers— the list goes on and on. Pure manual labor might be the only option for someone who is loath at the idea of being mistaken for a writer. People in thousands of professions could reasonably call themselves writers, so why don’t they?

There are two forms of “writing” that seem to exist in the popular consciousness. First, there is the utilitarian writing. It exists as a tool, and is to be used efficiently and “correctly”. This writing is the one that stays small. It is always a utility, a tool, no matter how much time it takes up. As far as tools go, utilitarian writing is seen as a moderately powerful, moderately useful one. People who use this writing are down to earth, practical. They use the tools they’re given.

Then, in a nearly diametrically opposed position rests the idea of artistic or creative writing. This writing is posited to be all-consuming. It’s erratic, muse-driven, and powerful. This writing is never thought of as small, even if it takes up a paltry amount of time on the writer’s daily schedule. These kinds of writers are fickle. They’re driven by passion, not reason, and they put their faith in the formless.

This bifurcated view of writing assumes that the power of words is significantly different based on the situation wherein they’re put down on paper.

That assumption, at least to me, feels absurd.

Words are powerful, regardless of if they’re being used to sell a Pepsi, explain how to use a new medical device, or build a world in someone’s imagination. Yes, creative writing depends on authors understanding that their words have power. But the idea of a utilitarian writing tool is an illusion — nobody who uses writing as a tool (and is effective) can deny that words are powerful in their ability to shape the world. Scientists and engineers have to write down and explain everything they do, and even in that highly technical writing, the words that are used matter.

If you use words, if your job demands the ability to communicate, then you’re a writer. We like to imagine that writing is either a tool or a lifestyle, but in a world that is so dependent upon literacy, I think it’s important to re-conceptualize all writing as being deeply connected with our lives. Most any lifestyle is a writing lifestyle.

It seems that this arbitrary delineation comes down to worth. “Writers” are seen as few and far between; creative types who are admirable but often unrealistic. We like to imagine that being a writer is something very particular, but that’s not the case. Most of the population are writers, even professional writers. The disdain that I’ve heard when telling people that I want to write professionally comes from a disconnect from the reality of a written world.

Knowing this — that writing is always powerful, always significant — I can’t help but wonder if there’s a job that I would get with either my English or Math degrees where I couldn’t call myself a writer. I used to wonder if I would ever be able to write “for a living,” but that fear is gone now. If I’m able to find a job at all, it’s likely that I’ll be able to tell everyone that I write for a living.