Samantha Stacia writes about the puzzle of being a writer. Run on over and read her post.
I can identify with this conundrum.
I am a writer. Is that worth anything? It’s a “hobby,” my husband says, and I can’t argue with that. It’s a full-time hobby, though, or it could easily be. It could demand eighty hours a week and then ask if I needed to sleep at night.
All without earning me a single penny.
Hence, the title of hobby. You see, if it was a “job,” I’d have to analyze revenue versus time/effort. How many of us would stick with a job that demanded full-time effort, but no pay? You might do that if you were starting a business and expected a return at a specified future time. But you wouldn’t do it for years, with the vague hope of “someday maybe.”
If you do that for others, it’s called volunteering. If you do it for yourself, it’s a hobby.
But that’s okay. Writing offers possible perks beyond the hope of someday publishing that book. One thing that’s exciting to see happening, is the expansion of a network of blogs. Blogging doesn’t earn any money for the blogger unless you put ads on it, and that only works if you have thousands of readers. But a writer can expand outward, building connections and relationships, writing posts for other blogs or sharing her blog with other writers.
Blogging is not publishing in the traditional sense. But consider the example of Charles Dickens, serializing his Christmas Carol in the newspaper. Blogging is quite similar to that type of exposure. People learn you are. They like (or hate) what you write. The network grows.
Which leads to less sleep, but that’s another story, isn’t it?