Workaholism And The Freelance Writer

Researching for a piece that I was writing recently about workaholism, I naturally expected to come across endless references to burned-out executives. Whilst they were of course fairly well represented, what surprised me greatly was the frequency with which writers and others in the artistic field earned a mention – although thinking about it, I can’t for the life of me understand why it came as such a shock.

Workaholism is, in some ways, very misunderstood. Many joke about, or even take pride in describing themselves as workaholics, meaning simply that they work very hard. True workaholism though, is something quite different. The Oxford English dictionary defines a workaholic as ‘a person who compulsively works excessively hard and unusually long hours’. Of course the significant word here is ‘compulsively’, as this suggests something which is done against one’s own wishes, and often sub-consciously. Another definition refers to ‘an unhealthy ability to stop working, often arising from long-standing feelings of inadequacy’.

It is this latter definition which, I think, really puts writers and artists and workaholism into perspective. Let’s face it, which other group of individuals suffers more from feelings of inadequacy? The world might wish to put this down to ‘artistic temperament’, but actually I think there are several much more tangible reasons why this is the case and those have to do with role models, guides and rewards.

When I worked in the Civil Service, I was surrounded by people who worked at the same grade as I did and, even though we may have been employed in different fields or disciplines, during the course of months and years I was able to measure my abilities and gauge my progress directly against that of my peers. This is, of course, the same in most occupations. Those who earn a living solely from writing, painting, sculpting or whatever other form of art, however, often tend to live a fairly solitary existence and come across few, if any, who are employed in the same line of business. That does not mean to say that we writers have no way at all of measuring our capabilities, because of course there are millions of published authors out there that we could consider to be our peers. Not only are many of these people considered to be in possession of great genius, however, but even those who do not aspire to such greatness are, nevertheless, published authors. Until such time as we find that holy grail that we call the publisher’s contract, therefore, we only have extreme success to measure ourselves against, and of course we always find ourselves wanting. What cause do we have at any point along the way to feel anything less than inadequate?

Again when we compare ‘normal’ jobs to creative ones, another great difference which becomes evident is that, particularly in the early days, we have no guide, nobody to steer us and tell us whether we are on track or possess even a shred of talent. Until we actually start earning money from real clients, the only feedback we get comes from proud mothers and the agents who send us our rejection slips. We just kind of fish around in the dark and cling desperately to the hope that we are doing something right, but we have no manager either to keep us in check or pat us on the back when we are doing well. All we really have is our own blind faith to guide us and our own sense of inadequacy to make us strive to do better.

Of course, when we finally reach the stage where we are paid for our work, whether as a freelance writer or because we hit the jackpot with a publisher, this goes a long way to increasing our levels of self-confidence, but even then most writers receive mixed messages. Yes, people are prepared to pay for our work and yes, we might establish a good client list and receive some superb feedback, but when we compare what we earn to the income of most other types of expert, it becomes quite difficult to make any sort of reconciliation. Surely, we tell ourselves, if we were really any good, we would be paid more for our services.

Even those who hit the heights and publish a best-seller do not escape the uncertainty and self-criticism. They know that they are only as good as their next idea and they live in constant fear of being a ‘one hit wonder’. In fact, I seriously wonder whether the writer ever lived who felt anything more than inadequate and it is small wonder that so many of us have what others see as an unhealthy ability to stop working. We have so much to prove to ourselves and to the world that relaxing even for a second simply is not an option.

They say that the dangers of true workaholism really begin to show themselves when work is put before family, friends and what others consider to be normal daily activities. Workaholics often neglect their health in that they fail to eat and drink regularly, do not take enough rest and find it impossible to relax. Once again, it is easy to see how these things can affect writers so badly. We already spend the greater part of our lives working alone and so it can become more and more difficult to make time for others in our lives. Sitting in our writing chairs trying to concentrate and summon up just the ‘right’ words, we cannot bear the interruption that getting up to cook a meal would cause and so we just keep ploughing on, ignoring the gurgling of our stomachs, the numbness of our backsides and the fact that we really ought to go take a pee. ‘I’ll just get to the end of this paragraph,’ we tell ourselves, only to find that another hour has passed and we still have not moved.

Why do we do it then if it’s so unlikely to make us rich and it affects our daily lives so considerably? Because at the end of the day it is what we love doing and is often what we are driven to do. We live for the day when we might finally experience the sheer unadulterated joy of seeing our book on the shelves of Waterstones, regardless of whether we earn a penny from it or not. We simply cannot help ourselves. Every new minute of every day could, after all, be the one when we are blessed with that impossible gift...a truly original idea.

Life should, though, be about balance, so if you are one of those out there who is trying to eke out a living from your art, just don’t forget to take care of yourself. You might not wish to be heard uttering the words ‘I wish I’d written that book’ when you are on your deathbed, but equally you won’t want to be regretting the fact that you never took the time to smell the roses!