The Glamour of Writing

Animals and writing have always been linked, for me. I work with animals, I live with them, I read about them, I write about them. Fiction and non-fiction.

My writing room is filled with pictures and paraphernalia about our various pets, and orange tabbies feature prominently. They’re not the most glamorous cats, at least the ones I end up with. But they have such great personalities! Right now we have two orange short-haired boys. Bryan, the exception to my rule, is gorgeous. His sleek fur is a rich, deep mahogany in the classic swirled pattern. He’s also about twenty pounds and most (not all, I’m not completely delusional) of it is muscle. Mylos, on the other hand, looks remarkably like my first orange boy, Simon. That is to say, the one that makes people ask, “What’s wrong with your cat?”

As it turns out, there is something wrong with Mylos. He’s got diabetes. Not that unusual in older felines, and definitely treatable. So, he gets insulin injections twice daily and I monitor his food intake and generally keep an eye on him. Bryan and the girls (Tabitha and Sophie) try to steal his food whenever they can, so it’s a bit of a job. But he’s worth it.

What does this have to do with writing, you’re asking? Before I got serious about fiction, I earned my Wheaties writing articles for the veterinary and pet-owning market. (FYI, I made more writing about animal health than I ever did practicing it in hospital. Veterinary technicians are notoriously undervalued. But I digress.) I wrote about dogs, cats, rabbits, horses, donkeys, goats and I think, an iguana once. I covered hairballs, house-training, inappropriate peeing and constipation (are you seeing a thread here?) Dental health, obesity, senior preventive health, pediatric spay/neuter protocols and puppy socialization were all ever-green topics that kept me in cat litter. But I also got some interesting assignments on less-known subjects, such as assessing the potential stud dog, and most memorably, cats that … um…licked themselves. Too much. If you know what I mean. The last, to my knowledge, never saw print, thank goodness. I got paid anyway.

The work was fairly reliable, I met my deadlines and even won awards for my articles. Because I wasn’t practicing as an animal health technician, it also kept me current on medical topics, which allowed me to keep my license. But eventually I realized that I’d rather remove my eyes with a spoon than write one more piece on flea prevention.

So I turned to fiction.

Newsflash: Fiction pays even worse than animal health articles. With non-fiction, you pitch ideas, get the contract, write your thousand-or-two words and wait for the cheque. Start all over again next week. With fiction, you write a hundred-thousand word novel, then pitch it and wait for the rejections to roll in. Do this every year and you’ll be famous before you’re 120. “Fiction,” I moaned, “is so much HARDER!”

I’ve been writing primarily fiction since 2006 and now have around 25 novels and novellas published, plus a couple of short stories in anthologies. I recall those lovely non-fiction assignments where someone asked – ASKED – me to write and promised to pay me for it. I recall the slightly delayed gratification of seeing my words in print. My by-line. “Ah,” I thought, polishing my rose-tinted specs. “Those were the days.” Who are you kidding? the early doubts whispered. You can’t be a novelist.

Typical writer stuff.

Shortly after Mylos was diagnosed, I figured I might as well write about our experience, exercise a few different writing muscles. Fiction was going nowhere at the moment. I hadn’t pitched to the animal health market for awhile; I’m doing the research anyway. Why not get paid for it? Plus, I’d get to interview the top people in the field and ask questions about my very own cat.

Board-certified feline specialists gave me advice and helped me shape a pretty good, if I do say so myself, informative and engaging piece on feline diabetes. I learned a lot about how to give Mylos the best treatment and it was good to touch base with the pet writing world, that small community of dedicated pet-lovers and talented writers.

I also discovered something else: I couldn’t wait to get back to fiction. I kept wanting to add tension, conflict, dialogue and character arcs. Unfortunately, that’s not really what Catnip newsletter had in mind. “Non-fiction,” I reminded myself, “is so much HARDER!”

I’ll probably continue to do the odd article now and then, when the topic strikes my fancy, just for the variety. But that spoon stays on my desk, to remind me of the ever-present threat of DIY eye enucleation.