When my older daughter was about three weeks old (and this kid just got her college acceptance this week, so this was a minute ago), I logged onto my computer, onto an online writing forum I’d just heard about. It was pre-social media, at least for those of us over the age of twenty, and the idea of connecting with other writers sounded helpful. But my baby was sleeping on my shoulder, and I didn’t dare try to put her down and wake her up. So very slowly, with just my left hand, I typed out my question: I haven’t written anything since I had a baby. I feel like I’m never going to write again. How does anyone even do this?
I remembered, with horror, the moment in a 300-level college course called Literature by Women when another student made the observation that none of the 19th or early 20th century women we’d been reading had children. The professor stammered something about Elizabeth Barrett Browning, and about things being different now. But were they, really?
When I logged onto that forum I had three published stories, which was enough to know that I could and should keep trying to make a go of it. (I hope I’d have known that without the publications, but they at least helped.) I also had a full-time teaching job that I’d need to return to in a few weeks. And somehow I expected myself to solve this puzzle in the first month of my baby’s life.
Some lovely people on that forum talked some sense into me (essentially: Wowww, chill out, you gave birth five minutes ago) and everything turned out fine. But there was this distinct moment when it all looked absolutely impossible—a moment that now, looking back, feels a lot like a sliding door. There’s another version of me out there that gave up and is hoping to return to writing in retirement.
When people ask how I balance parenting with a writing career, I have two answers. The first (especially if it’s asked by a condescending stranger and there’s a sexist subtext) is “Would you ask a man how he juggles being both a banker and a father?” and the second (especially if it’s asked by a fellow writer, one whose eyes are full of despair) is… well, it’s a two-hour long answer.
Since I can’t give that two-hour answer again and again, I want to invite you to my upcoming two-hour class for writers (and other artists), Five Things I’ve Learned about Writing While Parenting.
But in case you can’t make it, here’s some bonus content. Then I’ll tell you more about the class.
Things you shouldn’t do (please learn from my mistakes):
Let your children use the backsides of your manuscript pages for coloring/crafts after they and their friends have learned to read, unless you write reallllly clean stuff.
Beat yourself up for not being able to hold an entire novel in your head when there are babies or toddlers around.
Apply for a grant while trying to help your kids figure out a cookie recipe, and also Moana is blaring in the background. You might get the grant, but the cookies won’t work.
Things you can do:
Ask your kid for a random object to put into your work. I got “frog” as the answer once and it opened up a weird new ending for a short story.
Geek out on the narrative structure of picture books as you read each one aloud 7,000 times.
Learn from the simplicity and generosity of books for older children, and from where a child is confused or bored when you’re reading together.
Revel in the newfound efficiency (of knowing how to get a whole lot of work done during a twenty-minute nap time) that will stay with you forever, even after your kids become mysterious ghosts who only pass through to steal all your pasta.
Okay, so in the actual class we’ll talk much more about the bigger game plan.
We’ll talk about finding support networks, budgeting and prioritizing writing time, overcoming parental guilt, the ethics of writing about family, and tapping into the gifts that parenthood might lend your creative life. This class is an absolutely judgment-free zone, and I aim to provide you with ideas and options, without making you feel bad for not writing more, or less, or differently, or letting your child play Roblox while you work.
The concerns are practical, emotional, and moral. Some of them hit mothers harder than other parents (thanks, society!) but at the same time, we rarely talk about that balance and struggle for fathers (thanks again, society!). With the understanding that every family is different—someone might live in a commune where 23 adults are around to offer support, and someone else might be a single parent with a special-needs child—we’ll break down all the difficulties and joys (I promise there are joys!) of creating art while keeping small people safe and happy.
I’m not saying I’ve done it perfectly, but I’ve done it, and I can’t wait to talk to you about why you shouldn’t have to put your creative life on hold just because someone needs you to find their snow pants.
Please join us—you can get a ticket here! And use code SUBSTACK10 in the DISCOUNT CODE field and then to hit APPLY to get ten dollars off the ticket price.
(And YES, it will be recorded. The video will likely go up a few weeks after the live event, and you can purchase it to watch on demand.)
Five Things I’ve Learned is a great organization, and I’ve had fun working with them in the past.
Please enjoy this introductory video that I recorded WITH WET HAIR, LIKE A PRO:
And for the people about to write “Where is the link? I didn’t see the link?” It’s literally right up there, but here it is again:
https://myfivethings.com/class/rebecca-makkai-writing-while-parenting/
love the wet hair detail - emblematic of the busy writing life!