As a young girl, I wanted to be a writer, and, like most young girls, I assumed one day I would be a wife and mother. Thankfully, in my mind, these two roles fit well together: I could write from home and take care of the kids without worrying about daycare or a babysitter.
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By high school, I was learning more and more about professional writing, and I began reading more and more books about writing. I devoured Stephen King’s “On Writing” and Ray Bradbury’s “Zen in the Art of Writing,” and I went to a local used bookstore to get more. One book caught my eye: “How to be a Successful Housewife/Writer: Bylines and Babies Do Mix” by Elaine Fantle Shimberg.
That life had always felt far away, but seeing the title on the shelf made it feel much closer. I suddenly felt very unprepared. I bought it but held off on reading it until I thought I needed it.
Fast forward about 15 years from when I bought the book. My dream life as a writer felt like it was slipping away. I’d finished college, married, gotten a Masters degree (in English and Foreign Languages), put that degree to work as a language teacher (originally as an interim job until I could find a writing job), then had a daughter and stayed home — because of a pandemic. I pivoted a bit and worked at home as a host mother to international students. But, a few years later, the pandemic lightened, and I had another daughter on the way. We didn’t have room to keep students anymore, and my difficult pregnancy needed me to rest.
In December, 2022, I decided the time was right. It was time to read Shimberg’s book and move into that childhood vision of being a stay-at-home mother and writer.
Just from the title, though, I felt a strange sense of resentment. First, “Successful?” What did it even mean to be a successful writer? Who was this woman to try to define my success? Then there was “Housewife.” To repeat my own mother, I am not married to my house! I thought we were even past the try-hard term, “homemaker,” which I tolerated a bit more. But, for whatever reason, reading the title, “Successful Housewife Writer,” felt like a punch in the gut — not a guidebook to my childhood dream.
However, I saw the copyright date from 1979, offered Shimberg a touch of grace, and began reading.
As the title suggests, “How to be a Successful Housewife/Writer” gives advice to writers on how to achieve work-life balance when writing from home, especially with obligations surrounding children and housework. There are several sections time has rendered irrelevant, such as the chapter detailing what the writer should have in the office, including carbon paper, typewriter supplies and a set of encyclopedias.
Other areas are problematic, like the idea that women must say no to social gatherings because they inevitably lead to gossip-filled hours of useless babbling, that women need to take lessons in confidence to be able to assert themselves in the business world, or even the simple implication that only women are the ones making income from home while caring for children. Yet there are many useful and motivating points to the book, and those are the ones that kept me reading.
The first chapter invites the reader to consider why she wants to write and if she’s willing to put in the effort, time and sacrifice. After reading this, I decided I was ready to make writing a career.
From there, the book helped me roll up my sleeves. The next chapters are all about preparation: letting the writer’s social circle know about her writing (both to seek support and to let them know she’s going to be saying no to more distractions), figuring out when she’s going to write, setting up her office and treating herself as a professional.
I set up a writing space in our bonus room, complete with a corner desk, cork board and comfy chair for long periods of reading and writing. I made a schedule and got to work. That phase was pretty easy and, — dare I say it? — even fun!
The hard part was next: treating myself like a professional. After having such a long dry spell, I felt my skills and relevancy slipping. If I started back into writing again, would anyone actually care? Would I just be fooling myself? Shimberg writes, “You can’t sell yourself to others if you aren’t buying you yourself” (page 50). I decided to trust the process, remind myself of my experience and at least have a ‘fake it til you make it’ mindset.
The next chapters are more shop-talky: about how to streamline responsibilities with chores and unnecessary obligations; keep your children occupied; keep workflow consistent with adequate prewriting and research; and make more money through supplemental content and photography. These sections are largely unhelpful; not only are most of the tips about housework and childcare fairly common sense, but the suggested training and hardware needed — in today’s time of cell phones that provide convenient photography and voice recording tools — are outdated.
When I drudged past the chapters in the middle and got to the chapter, “Making It Your Business (to Be Businesslike),” my head was back in the game. The first section titled “Think of Yourself as a Writer” was my biggest takeaway: If I wanted to be a professional writer, I needed to treat myself like a professional writer. It was my job, not my hobby. I had experience, knowledge and talent, so Shimberg encouraged me not to sell myself short.
I went through her ideas: I set up a separate account for handling my writing money, and I invested in business cards. I balanced input (reading/research) and output (writing/editing), I networked and I sought professional development. I made daily, weekly, monthly and quarterly goals about past, present and future projects.
The penultimate chapter is likewise very helpful, with sections written by other self-proclaimed “housewife/writer/mothers,” including Lois Duncan (“I Know What You Did Last Summer”), Barbara Deane (story writer for “Highlights for Children” and “Ranger Rick’s Nature Magazine”) and Erma Bombeck (“If Life is a Bowl of Cherries, What am I Doing in the Pits?”). Each of these women shares strategies and offers advice to other work-from-home writers with families. It’s a nice juxtaposition to hear fresh voices, like multiple motivational speeches just before going out to conquer — which is what the last chapter encourages the writer to do.
And it was working! I went from not writing, hardly publishing and being too ashamed to market myself or network to then, in 2023, writing nearly every day in my home office, publishing 16+ times and proudly expanding my network as a self-proclaimed professional writer — all while having a baby, caring for a toddler, strengthening my marriage and managing my household. A large part of that “success” is because of reading this book. It wasn’t necessarily because of her advice about how to manage my home and my time but how to change my mindset: writing needed to take priority, and I needed to show others (and myself!) that I should be included in the conversation.
The book is easy and somewhat enjoyable to read, like talking with a friend (or ultra-conservative neighbor or nagging aunt) over tea.
In sum, this book is largely helpful … and also not at all. It depends a lot on where you are as a writer. If you’re a creativity-starved mother from several decades ago, perfect. If you’re an established male writer in the 21st century, this is probably not for you. The sweet spot is for new or returning writers (specifically mothers) who struggle with professional discipline and impostor syndrome — which I know is quite a few of us, regardless of decade. If that’s you, skip chapters 5-11, but enjoy the rest.
Shimberg is to-the-point and matter-of-fact, with a touch of personality and humor. The voice feels like an older family friend giving (maybe unwarranted) advice; sometimes it feels empowering and helpful (“It’s far better to plan just one hour a day for your writing … than to consider two hours a ‘must’ and constantly feel frustrated” [52]), and other times it feels pretty cynical (“If you have such a husband [who takes it as an insult that you want them to share the workload of household chores], hand over the ‘male’ jobs: changing lightbulbs, making repairs, and pulling furniture out so you can occasionally clean behind it” [67]). Especially in the post-pandemic era, I’m sure there are more appropriate books for work-from-home writers who also balance family life, but if you’d like to see what advice you can glean from this 1979 guide, check it out, at least for a laugh!
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