How many kids does it take to make an author?

I was just about to write a post on my breathtaking few days at the Art of Writing retreat in Tuscany last week (endless tree-decked hills, feisty writerly company – stayed tuned next week) when this article caught my eye.

Zadie Smith criticises author who says more than one child limits career.

I have a soft spot for women writers with kids, which doesn't mean I have a hard spot for women writers who don't. And readers of this blog will know I can’t pipe down if there is a discussion on Career vs Motherhood and the myriad of life strategies there are in between. Throw the dilemmas of the writer into that stew, and you have my attention. Reader, do your thang.

 

Last week a Guardian journalist cobbled together a text based on Zadie Smith's and Jane Smiley's comments upon an Atlanta article written by Lauren Sandler, which has raised a few hackles. The Guardian then provided a study in graphs and pie charts to investigate the equation one child=genius. My first thought: Who says an author is a genius??Ahem.. I don’t necessarily. Brilliant yes, but a genius? Do you? 

Sandler, only child and mother of one, finds that several of her beloved writers are mothers of only children and wonders if their oeuvre might have been compromised by the production of further offspring. She cites a comment by Alice Walker (whose mother-daughter conflict is well-documented and painful to read): ‘..Because with one you can move. With more than one you’re a sitting duck.’

Sandler goes on to lament,  ‘Is stopping at one child the answer, or at least the beginning of one?’

Indignant Zadie Smith commented that ‘..as the parent of multiples I can assure Ms. Sandler that two kids entertaining each other in one room gives their mother in another room a surprising amount of free time she would not have otherwise.’

Not all mine

Hmm. While I do remember typing out my first novel with my eldest in a basket on the floor in Mogadishu, my recollection of the faraway time when I had (just) two offspring brings back the less lyrical image of Older Son driving a train over Baby Son’s face. I’d love to agree with Zadie that children entertain themselves quietly, but in my household this has rarely been the case. Illness, fighting, food, mean that Mummy is nurse, referee, shopper all at once, on-and-off during the day.  Child care? Well, until writing pays for that and the bills, I have the school system to thank for that. 

Sandler’s article also reflects upon the lives of her ‘revered’ authors, citing cases such as Joan Didion, Elizabeth Hardwick and Alice Walker, and though it serves the purpose of her argument that greatness is limited by multiple reproduction, it feels a little like peeking through the rubbish bin behind a famous person’s house – too much information. Would she have been the same writer, had she had more children to drop by with in-laws, or less quiet time to workshop her novels? Was she selfish? Is this how greatness was achieved?

While heartfelt, it seems rather limited. And – even more silly – in the Guardian piece that examines the ratio of larger families to literary genius, it appears that most successful novelists produce zero children, although the second most popular number is two. Thirty-eight percent of females in the literary genius category (Joyce Carol Oates, Harper Lee) have no children compared to twenty-seven percent of males. Novelists have more kids than poets. Norman Mailer rocked the survey by having eight children. With four kids, I find myself in the same category as John Updike, E. Annie Proulx (a late starter) and Saul Bellow. So there's hope for this writing junkie yet.

As Zadie Smith rightly says, there are so many factors essential to a writer’s career. An understanding partner, childcare, family support. And there are so many elements that might limit a writer’s – or anyone’s – career. Health, personal and economic issues quickly come to mind. Lack of determination, lack of clarity of purpose, even plain bad luck.

So where are we with all this? There are big egos and neglected children in every sector. Writing takes time and endless belief. Kids are a timesuck but they can save you from yourself, enrich, impair. And there’s no easy way to become a literary genius, or even a halfway happy published writer, with or without sprogs calling you up all the time, expecting cash, emptying the fridge, stealing your clothes and telling you you’re clueless...