Doing it for free


They come from all over – requests from libraries, schools, community groups – asking for free presentations, workshops and readings from writers.

A number of years ago, when I was trying to explain that this was not something I could accommodate, I did suggest that if the teacher was willing to forgo her wage for teaching that day, I might be willing to donate my time, too.

Dead silence. Then a kind of choking noise… Laughter? Outrage? I never did find out as she hung up pretty quick.

But perhaps you get my point.

I work at my craft. I take time from other necessary activities in my life to put into my writing. I make an investment in space, equipment and supplies. I make part of my living from my writing, and all the activities relating to it.

And I no longer do it for free.

Libraries have budgets and can apply for grants. If schools value literacy, they should also value the writers who contribute to helping develop it in their students. We live in a society that – rightly or wrongly – shows the value of something by attaching a dollar value to it.

I have worked for free in the past for the right person, project or organization. I mentor other writers. I donate copies of my  books. But I do maintain the right to say No.

Today I received the latest request. Sadly, this came via a writer who was also once the ED of a provincial writers’ organization. Who should know better.

I wonder if she understood when I said no. That this was something I could not do, ‘like many other children’s writers who cannot work for free.’

I wonder if next time the library needs its plumbing fixed, it will ask the tradesperson to do it for free.

Although I bet they DO have a budget for that!


Moving On

Enough changes in three years… the end of my marriage, loss of both my parents … now I am adding retirement and moving to the litany. Which puts me at the top of the list for a heart-attack or some such stress-related fallout, I’m told.

But luckily I am one of those people who is energized by the idea of change… although perhaps not always by the work involved in bringing it about.

In mid-summer I move to Vancouver Island, closer to my daughter (and only child) and her family, to a small somewhat shabby rented one-bedroom apartment while I decide where I really want to be. What I want to do. Who I want to be in this, my next ‘new’ life.

Which means sorting, culling, clearing out and reducing.

Which means going through all my books and sorting out which ones I REALLY need to keep. My criteria is 1) Those I KNOW I will read again, 2) Those that are least likely to be perennially available at libraries, 3) Those that have sentimental or significant meaning to me.

moving-boxesThe writing-related books are different. I can admit that many on my shelves I have not actually read. Picked through, perhaps. Lent out to others.

I have managed to reduce their numbers from four shelves to two by giving away handfuls to my writing group members and students in recent classes.

I know that somewhere down the line I will be looking for one of them, only to find I have given it away. But hopefully, there will be other writers in my life, ones I leave behind here on the Lower Mainland or new ones I meet on Vancouver Island, who will help me find what I’m looking for, and help me find my way as I make new connections, find a place in my new community, and take on new projects and challenges.