My middle child is a playwright.
If I were a responsible parent, I’d probably discourage her from pursuing a career in the arts, unless she were to go into arts management, where she could be regularly underpaid instead of intermittently so. Because face it: as much as we lionize successful artists in our culture, we don’t do much to support them on their way. And by “successful” we usually mean wealthy and/or famous, preferably both.
But as a writer who deferred my own writing for a large segment of my life, I’m encouraging my daughter to arrange her life so that she can capture the stories that rattle through her head. This may be socially and financially risky, but I know the rage that comes from disregarding the voice, the gift.
If I do nothing else than tell her every day that what she has to say is important, that her voice matters to the world, I’m doing my job.
I know I’m reacting to what I didn’t get. My parents had no experience raising a writer, or supporting one. And I’m not talking money. I’m talking belief.
Because I knew, on some level, my parents didn’t believe in me as a writer the way they believed in me as a scholar, literary critic, and educator (jobs with regular paychecks), I never showed them my work until it was published. I took their cue, and marginalized this most important element of my life. It’s taken me most of a lifetime to overcome this learned doubt, and I may have missed my chance. But I have a new chance, a chance to help my daughter with the support I wish I’d had.
She’s already enjoying some success, with two staged readings of a full-length play and a full production of a ten-minute piece. At age 23, she’s already earned her first royalty check. (See? I can’t keep money out of this equation.)
These successes are the end results of real work, work she does before and after she goes to her job – a prestigious but underpaid internship as a dramaturge at one of the country’s preeminent theaters for new American work. She’s learning and making connections in the industry during the day, and she’s going home to write at night.
She’s living well below the poverty level, but if she takes even a low-paying job, she won’t have time to write. So we’ve made a deal. I’m paying her to write: $5/hour for seventeen hours/week. In addition to writing, she sends me a list of contests and submission deadlines she plans to meet.
She’s not going to get rich off me; she will get a lot written, and she’ll be able to pay her rent.
How do you support your writing? What’s the bare minimum you need? How can you arrange your life so that you can write and survive?
Deborah Lee Luskin is a novelist, essayist and educator. She lives in southern Vermont, and can also be found on the web at www.deborahleeluskin.com
Live to Write - Write to Live 
Color me impressed! Your daughter is one lucky writer to have your “creative support” and encouragement.
I salute you madame! The world needs more true patrons of the arts. I hope beyond hope that I may provide this same supportive environment for my daughter. Far too much talent gets squashed in the name of practicality.
poems molder in the
back pockets of jeans
at the bottom of
the laundry basket….
Amazing dedication from both of you. Well done, oh keeper of dreams and muses. Your daughter is very lucky.
B B Boon, who got me into the “business”, told me it gave you time to do other things. I transitioned to securities and life insurance, but it also gives you free time if you want it. That’s my practical side. Being a writer is a way of life more than a job; it is not practical, but it’s fun. As a writer, I can start conversations with anyone, anywhere. People are intrigued with authors. I don’t give out my financial advisor card any more, just my writing card.
Wow what a wonderful mum you are x I think it is great that you are supporting your daughter’s talent. Wherever it leads she will always know that you were right there for her and that is the greatest gift x
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nice blurb, deb, good luck, the path of the artist is fraught…it’s a body, head and soul trip, the two become coordinated through our experiences, we fear people like Gaugain and Oscar Wilde, OMG what if the path into the arts leads me here? People will think i am poor and nuts, and probably demented…money doesn’t make art and a poverty level is a subjective perception, art comes in the struggle to express, your art… i love you and respect you, please don’t hear this as criticism but as my own observations and opinions, i am an artist, i know that, i have gone broke, i live on Social Security, 6 months ago i was as strong as a bull, now i have been reduced to a new born calf, i limp and wheeeze and write my best stuff now, that means i like it and i don’t really care if anyone likes it, i don’t want the gelt anymore there are more priceless things…and…what the hell is fame? Encourage her…that’s all, the Muse knows the way.
That’s very cool! What a lucky daughter you have. It’s really tough to make a living in the arts, At 23, that’s a great time to explore those passions and try to make it work before marriage and family obligations take over. My cousin tried to make it as an actress–she went to theatre school, performed in tons of plays–she was GOOD. Plus she was petite and cute, you’d think Hollywood would be all over her. She struggled for years, and it frustrated my aunt and uncle, although they provided a lot of support. Eventually, she moved on to a different career, but married a playwright who owned a little theatre. She can still work with that and it makes her happy. I think that push early on is so worth it, even if the dream doesn’t happen, you can experience so much from it.
So great that you do that for your daughter! Thank you for writing this!
You are awesome! You are investing in your daughter with the promise of huge dividends. A young woman who is following HER dream, not those of others, and knowing that the person who matters most to her (you) believes in her and is helping to pave the way for her. We all need people like you in our lives.
My 14 year old daughter is a writer. I have had that discussion with her on the Business of writing, but for now, she prefers to simply let it flow. She is very good at letting it flow, much more then I am. At 14, I don’t blame her because when I was 14, I was too busy trying to replace the income of a deceased father. The freedom to write when I was younger was lost to the daily grind of school and then work. I envy my daughter in a way. She has a dream and as long as I am able to indulge her, she will be able to exercise it. Thank you for the post. I don’t think your daughter is lucky, but it does sound like she is fortunate to have you supporting her.
If only we all had that kind of support. I agree with Roby, “A young woman who is following HER dream.” You are a special person to grant that kind of support!
I second all the sentiment written above–and also applaud your daughter for being willing to work for $5.00/hour and learn that it is hard work and dedication that leads to success–not necessarily feeling like we deserve to strike it rich early on in the game. I worked for $5.50 and hour at my first job in my field right out of college (You might want to consider giving your daughter a raise soon–that was 25 years ago! :), because that is what we did to get our foot in the door. More kids need to learn that lesson these days. Love your posts and wish your daughter continued success. It sounds like she has what it takes!
I think this is a really important post about a striking issue. Twenty years ago, as an aspiring playwright (while doing Arts at university), I was in a good position to do all that your daughter is doing. I managed to get several (university) plays on, be selected for our National Drama Institute for their Playwrights Studio and represent my country at Interplay (a gathering of young international playwrights, held every 4 years). However, the irony came about when I reached the end of my Arts degree and, lost as to “what to do next”, my mother suggested I do a Dip Ed – then I could do “casual teaching while you write on the days when you are not working” as my mum put it. This was a great idea until I applied for a relief (maternity) position at a private school, before I’d even finished the Dip Ed and (unexpectedly) got the one-year-job-that-ended-going-for-9!! The result was that my writing, which I did mostly in the evenings, fell for the most part, by the wayside, apart from some small, but rewarding, school productions. It is only this year with blogging that I have started getting “my muse” back. However, I’ve never regretted the decision to go into teaching and love what I do.
To end this rather long comment, I would like to to thank my parents for THEIR support at the time, encouraging me to write and giving me the space to do so. And I would like to thank you for this post and what you are doing for your daughter. Great stuff.
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My heart ached when I read this. Lucky girl, your daughter. We should all be so lucky! My mother wanted me to be a secretary. The fact that I read Hemingway, Tolstoy, Shakespeare and other great writers by the age of 12 and had been journaling for two years never factored into her assumptions about what kind of career I might be attracted to later in life.
She was a practical woman. Art was not practical. Writing was a whim. Education was for getting a job, after which you would get married and have babies and live in the house with white picket fence.
In spite of her very un-feministic shortcomings when it came to paying attention to my education and creative development, I still felt loved. She made me take typing for two years which turned out to be one of the greatest things (I’m a keyboard whiz). And she fed my unending appetite for books and bought them for birthdays and holidays. She even bought the ones I wrote on my list. She taught me to sew, to paint (practical stuff which of course I utilized later in artistic projects, haha), and how to be fairly organized. She made me do homework and always made sure I had an afternoon snack, was clean and tucked me in and kissed me goodnight.
My point is: We take from our parents what they have to give. If we can morph that into use in another way, great. If not, ditch it. We can wish we got more but we have to take what we get and use it.
But if she stuck her neck out like you are doing for your daughter – wow, that would have been something special. This is a great demonstration of belief and love on your part. You’re a great mother.
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Lucky girl to have your support. I come from a family of folks who look down upon writers or the arts in general and I have spent many years following career paths that would be most profitable and being miserable in the process.
There is nothing wrong with being practical about the money factor, but there is also a lot to be said about following your passion.
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well done to your daughter and well done to you for being a fantastically supportive mum
Deborah, I would’ve loved to be YOUR daughter. My dad, being a writer for PR and advertising, told me I wasn’t aggressive enough to be a journalist. A couple of pros told me the same thing. All it did was make me more determined than ever to prove ’em wrong.
I tell my nephews: Do what you love and you’ll love what you do. You can always find a back-up career. I’ve done retail sales when times are tough. But I’ve never, ever given up my first love, writing.
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I wish my parents had supported me like that! I wouldn’t be 50 something … still aspiring to be a writer! My daughter is pursuing the arts. She graduated from AADA with her degree, got accepted into The Company and completed that and is still writing screenplays and co-writing projects with Director and Film maker friends… But I think the $5 an hour idea is genius! We support our kids anyway, 😉 and yet this way, we are supporting their talent in a whole different way! Now, why didn’t I think of that?!
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