Editing party with my writing buddy, Matt
This time last year, I had my manuscript at the forefront of my mind. Every week, I would tackle another chapter, and I aimed to have it revised for the third time before the end of 2018.
That was before I started baking bread and running a business. That was before I took on a part-time job as a college tutor. That was before I got bogged down with the weight of the task to not just complete a book but to reflect the education I was still receiving—a social justice, anti-racist, perspective-building education.
I cracked open my manuscript last month for the first time in what felt like ages. It felt good. Getting back into writing is like getting back into exercising without all the huffing and puffing. The endorphins flow quickly. The payoff is instant.
Everytime I return to the manuscript, I’m reminded how much I enjoy the slow slog of writing in order to say exactly what I want to say. And each return to this manuscript reminds me of my continued goal to support this particular community with what can come of this story’s publication.
So how can I gain momentum with editing? How can I hold myself to my progress standards from grad school? How can I return to my goal of finishing the third edit and getting this draft under the eyes of agents?
Seeking Fuel and Structure
With November approaching, I’ve considered using NaNoWriMo as inspiration for diving back into manuscript editing with the vigor of a novelist drafting 50,000 words (they do have other goal-setting tools, including editing and not just in November!). I’ve created a project on their platform as one way of fueling progress, in spite of the fact that such goal-setting tools don’t always work on me. It’s not laziness; it’s rationalizing other money-making work or quality time with loved ones over my own goals that require time, space, and mental deep dives. Evidently, I like being flexible and present and lucrative more than I like completing fulfilling tasks. See fitness goals.
I’ve considered using the winter break innate to my college tutoring job to create a rigid structure for editing. Treat it like a full-time job. I’ve got all the conditions necessary for writing: a comfy new couch, a working computer, an internet connection, free time, more bread to fuel my brain and body than a human probably should.
But of course, I know myself well enough to know that I need deadlines and the urgency that comes from outside myself. That is what will get me to finish this book.
So this summer, I looked into writing residencies. I selectively applied to two based on what felt right: not too much time away from home, the perceived value of the informal education included, the focus and values of the program and therefore its participants as perhaps the most educational aspect of the program (for me).
Second to those factors was the condition of cost. One was fully-funded with only an application fee. The other was a free application for a paid residency. I’m still waiting to hear from the former.
Good Sense or Lacking Courage
Over these last few years of taking writing more seriously, I’ve gone through a range of emotions evaluating the intersection of money and writing. I’m disappointed in the industry for what it values monetarily for those starting out while simultaneously inspired to hustle up that ladder. At the moment, I’m in a position of being able to support my writing rather than require writing to support me, though I’d be ecstatic for the latter.
From the outside looking in, embarking upon a writing career can seem sadistic and fruitless, and if you have financial obligations, it can seem impractical or selfish. The stigma of a struggling artist taunts as if a concerning inevitability even if one is not struggling, even if one keeps their day job and makes ends meet. I currently have a stable life here in Denver that pays the bills, but my capacity to fund my writing feels finite. I’m afraid to step too close to that stigma only to see both the writing and the stability vanish.
I juggle these feelings of fulfillment with the capitalistic realities of living. I juggle these thoughts as I consider writing residencies and alternate paths (ultimately towards publication). Do I possess good sense, or do I lack courage?
Where Should The Money Go
There’s another level to this that lacquers every consideration. I’m writing about a community that has suffered the injustices of colonialism, capitalism, and globalization. My book addresses those injustices for which I feel directly responsible and from which I’m an indirect beneficiary. While I strive to benefit that community with work derived from my experience there, I am cautious of any exchange of money related to the book that doesn’t go directly into their hands. It must make sense. It must promise a return on the investment to them.
This and more I explained to the paid residency to which I had the honor of being accepted. La Wayaka Current appealed to the traveler in me, and I saw incredible potential for my own learning with the opportunity to live in an indigenous community again. It would be a chance to compare my time in Fiji with a structured and informed experience in Panama. There would be writing time. There would be clarity in juxtaposing cultures and experiences, in the way we can define our own culture more clearly by being far away from it, by experiencing a different one.
And the work they have been putting into developing a long-term relationship with the local community is what I’d like to see most. I’ve been so focused on surface level or even predatory examples of cross-cultural exchange that I’d like to see what it looks like to have a mutually beneficial exchange between two disparate cultures or ways of living on our planet today.
How Much Money?
I’m grateful La Wayaka Current accepted my application (though it dripped with reticence and uncertainty, the likes of which you’ve read above) and gave me financial aid anyway. Regardless, the three-week residency still costs around $3,000 USD including airfare. I can’t not see that amount of money going far in Fiji. If I had $3,000 to drop, why wouldn’t I just go back to Fiji and write there with the fact-checkers and cultural experts within arm’s reach? Why wouldn’t I invest that money in the community and just give my writer self a swift kick in the rear to finish the damn book at home?!
If you were wondering, yes I am an Enneagram 5: the investigator. I think way too much and let my thoughts spiral into a corn maze with no obvious way out.
Well, I’m looking for my way out of that corn maze…or actually, forward. I’m looking up grants that support writers and artists. Hopefully I’ll have some luck there, though I certainly can’t bank on it.
And I decided to publish this rumination along with an option for crowdfunding. Perhaps my thinking appeals to one or more of you. Perhaps my community can give me some clarity on this. Regardless, it gives me an external push to keep editing, keep learning, and keep the community in the forefront of my mind.
Writers: do you have similar contemplations? Send a message or a comment and help me emerge from my echo chamber. It’s loud in here.
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Full Transparency: If I don't meet the fundraising goal OR if I decide to do a different residency OR if I feel for any reason this isn't the right thing to do, I plan to donate all (including what I can swing) to the community scholarship fund for the Fijians to support tertiary education costs for its residents or whatever educational initiatives are current on their agenda.