My wife is Chinese. She is from Taiwan, but her parents were from mainland China. As a husband, I am only required to produce two things -- a pay packet and children. Between us, we have produced three children, all of whom could be described as outstanding scholars. That part is OK.
The pay packet is the problem. I am a writer. Writers do not get pay packets. Writers are, by definition, self employed. You might have a job as a professor at a good university which requires you to publish the occasional short story or journal article and teach about six hours a week for 20 weeks of the year. For this you will get a very handsome salary and a job from which you are effectively unsackable. I do not regard such a person as being a writer. Or you may get a gig (increasingly rare) on one of the Sun King's flagship publications that Uncle Rupert doesn't require to produce one of those vulgar things called a profit. Such publications are about as rare as a sober Irishman on St Patrick's Day, but they do exist. I do not call such a person a professional writer.
I call a professional writer someone who makes average weekly earnings plus 25% to allow for lack of holidays and so on. That would mean approximately $90,000 gross, not allowing for the great many tax deductions any resourceful self employed person can find. That is, an average sort of income. I know many
writers. I don't know of any, including the famous ones, who earn even this modest income. I estimate, and others agree, that there are about ten professional writers in Australia who have met and overcome this financial hurdle consistently for ten years. One of my friends, who I consider to be one of Australia's outstanding literary stylists, asked me how much the Adam Smith Club Newsletter paid its contributors. I am not usually so crass as to burst out laughing in my friends' faces, but this time I couldn't help myself.
I have one very good friend who I have known for many years who could reasonably be described as internationally famous. He likes to project an image of prosperity but when he gets a decent cheque he blows it on an overseas trip or something similar and he is returned to poverty.
My wife is contemptuous of the fee I get from the main publication I write for, News Weekly. News Weekly is vaguely associated with the Catholic Church and has a degree of influence, but all she is interested in is the pay packet, which unfortunately News Weekly is unable to produce. That's better than when I started writing for them. I was paid nothing until the late B A Santamaria, founder of the National Civic Council, decided it was unfair for me to be paid nothing when I was writing every fortnight. It was a small amount, but it was useful.
No-one in my family has any interest in my writing at all. My daughter, who is a self-described feminist, is offended by News Weekly's pro-life stance. Our family is half Irish Catholic. Unfortunately, my mother doesn't like Catholics -- she comes from the Protestant side of the family. My mother is a millionaire but she is unwilling to spend the $25 or so to subscribe to News Weekly. My mother's logic regarding money is best seen in the following example. Last August was my mother's 90th birthday. I paid for a ticket from Melbourne to Perth for her party, which cost me over $400. I also paid for my two youngest children, who flew Qantas, which cost more, as their elder brother, who is a mergers and acquisitions banker, decide to fly Qantas. When, after the "cosy" family dinner at an expensive restaurant, I exploded and said I'd paid $400 out of my own pocket to attend her party, she replied that without my sister's loyalty card, the dinner would have cost her OVER $400!
To return to the great questions of our age. We were at the supermarket. My wife had finally decided to spend $8 on a bottle of Brown Bothers Moscato at Coles. I had just finished writing an article speculating on the possibility of armed conflict between China and Australia, including its allies, such as the US. My wife told me to stop talking nonsense, as she had her mind on important things -- she had two overripe zucchinis in the fridge. Should should she by some eggs and make zucchini slice, or buy a can of tomatoes and make ratatouille?
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