Is that time of the year when we start setting up our Christmas trees and discover — again — that being a writer doesn’t pay well. When I say “we” I mean some newly-arrived auteurs, terminally online publishing grifters who trade on their faux outrage about everything, self-serving writerly pseudo trade unionists (who’ve never been seen at a picket line), and the occasional experienced albeit delusional Author Online™, who from January to early December still holds on to the dream of “making it” in “the industry”. Coming from a literary culture in which almost no one lives off their writing, I always find this moment of realisation a bit ridiculous. Even some of our biggest writers kept day jobs for most of their lives. I don’t think this is necessarily bad.
© 2024 Your Mum
Substack is the home for great culture