When people ask I generally tell them that I’ve always wanted to be a writer. That’s not really true. It wasn’t until I was about seven it first occurred to me that ‘writer’ was a profession and that I, one day, might need one of those. And to be perfectly honest, these two realisations didn’t have much to do with one another.
When the idea did finally occur to me (probably at the prompting of a nearby adult or reasonable equivalent) I gave it due consideration, acknowledged that if I was going to be doing it anyway I might as well call it a job. And then, being the horribly practical child that I was, I decided I would need another career to support my writing habit.
I considered a variety of options.* Teacher, at seven (roundly discouraged by my parents, both teachers). Archaeologist, at nine. Amanuensis for an author, at eleven. Architect, at fourteen. Assassin, at fifteen. (Okay, yes, I like the letter ‘a’. ‘Author’ also begins with an ‘a’.)
Of them all, architect is the only option I took remotely seriously. In fact, the only reason I’m not a perfectly sens— all right, realistically, the only reason I’m not masquerading as a perfectly sensible architect today is because my life was derailed sharply in my last years of high school, and I went from thinking vaguely about my future to wondering if I had one. Which is a really remarkable tool for achieving clarity of focus.
In the blinding clarity of no tomorrow I decided to do what I wanted to do, and by the time practicality and the realisation that I might have a future after all arrived I was most of the way through a writing degree. At which point I said fuck it and just went with it.**
So it’s probably more true to say that as long as I’ve known what ‘a writer’ was I’ve thought being one was a neat if impractical idea. And I’ve always kind of wanted to be impractical.
* Actually, while I liked the idea of a lot of things, for the longest time the only thing I could actually picture myself doing was being a fire engine driver. (I lived around the corner from the fire brigade in an area that’s known for bursting into flame regularly. I saw a lot more of the driving than the actual fire fighting. Seemed feasible.)
** Although I have a masters degree to prove I haven’t entirely lost my sense of pessimism. And that I shouldn’t make decisions at cocktail parties.
Kandace Mavrick
Paul McLaughlan
arkayspark
02/02/2012
And in all your deliberations you didn’t think of being a librarian though that’s what your Masters is in.
But before you decided you could be a writer, you were one. Remember all the napkins and coasters with notes, ideas and stories?
And you never said you were going to be a writer, you used to say very definitely “ii am a writer”
Kandace Mavrick
02/02/2012
Well yes, that’s the thing. ‘Writer’ and ‘profession’ never fit particularly well together in my mind. It was more like ‘writer = state of being’.
And I never had any intention of doing any of the things I’m qualified to do. It’s a bit strange really.
jasssa
02/02/2012
I think it’s worked out pretty well for you so far. Though of course it’d help if you could find a publisher with whom you could settle down and have a couple of books with! 😛
I never had any real direction until I was in my early to mid twenties. Then I realised I didn’t want to grow up at all, but that I’d settle for working my way up the ranks of IT Support until I no longer had to deal with end-users/customers directly at all 🙂
Kandace Mavrick
02/02/2012
Ah yes, the ongoing search for ‘the One’. I should really send off that next round of queries… *cough* Scuse me…
Wuffie
05/02/2012
So your answer to the question “what do you want to be when you grow up” is “impractical”!
*amused*
Kandace Mavrick
06/02/2012
It is! There’s so much about a career in writing that you can’t plan for, and even success is not guarantee of being able to support yourself doing it. It’s a peculiar field.
And, obviously, it can work out. But I’ve never been the sort of person who’s comfortable depending on luck. This is why I sit around sometimes thinking, ‘Seriously? I get to do this?’. I have a deep appreciation of the sheer serendipity involved in the fact that I’m here. Especially given I wasn’t actively trying to be.