"I'm going to retire from writing and live off my savings. What will I do the following day? I have no fucking clue!"  — re:books

 

Adele can f**k right off. 

I'm kidding. I love you, Adele! 

Can you tell I’m a tad unsettled right now? I was ditched by a woman (not Adele) who I madly, unconditionally loved. I obviously haven’t told many people about this love affair, so, I’d appreciate it if you kept my heartache to yourselves.

I want to scream, “No, I will never find someone like you!” I won’t find another woman like her. This woman is truly one of a kind. It’s been difficult to just...let her go.

Breakups suck. Especially when you’re completely blindsided, and it’s the other person who tells you they’re done and that there will be no new future adventures together. 

I’ve never been through this type of breakup before, so I’ve never experienced this type of heartbreak. This may be the worst end to a relationship I’ve ever had. (Come back to read about my sexual experiences with women here later. But keep scrolling...I need advice, book lovers!)

I spent countless nights with this woman. I couldn’t get enough of her. Many nights, she kept me up way past my bedtime. And the exhaustion the next day was always worth it. (Why, yes, the bags under my eyes are Prada!)

I was never bored when we were together. She was always there when I needed her. We took many vacations together. I would often sneak away with her, hiding from my kids, so we could have at least 30 minutes of uninterrupted adult time together. 

Although it's been almost a year, I’m still mourning the demise of our relationship. I don’t think I’ll ever get the closure I need to fully move on, even though she basically told me, “It’s not you, it’s me.”

This woman was adamant that she was “done.” She didn’t even bother opening the last four messages I sent. But I’m not done, nor have I accepted this loss that feels like a betrayal.

I can't imagine a future without her. I think a lot about reaching out so I can ask her again and again, “What do you mean you’re just…done? I spent so many years supporting, admiring, and being your number-one cheerleader. How could you do this to me?!”

I can’t help but romanticize our history, though I’ve accepted that maybe our relationship was way more one-sided than I had thought, which is all sorts of fucked up. You’ll see why momentarily.

I didn’t just lose her. Like many breakups, I also lost so many memorable characters she introduced me to — characters who I adore, and who could keep our relationship a secret because they were just that: characters. 

Fictional ones.

So, who is this woman who broke my heart? Author Barbara Gowdy. I had thought we had a solid relationship; she is one of my favourite authors, and I was her loyal reader.

Which is why it was so upsetting to learn she was just….done writing books. And like any breakup, I took it personally, like she was divorcing me on Valentine’s Day. (I’m thinking of asking for child support. Doesn’t she have some sort of obligation as an author to keep writing for readers?)

But how can one even explain this kind of breakup? It’s not a romantic one. It's not a sexual one. It’s not, on the surface, even a complicated relationship. It’s an author-reader relationship!  

 She wrote multiple novels. I read them multiple times. (I would make a joke about My Guy giving me multiple orgasms, but he doesn't like it when I write about our sex life, so I won't. But he does.)

I’m sure many women who’ve been ditched would agree that one of the hardest things they’ve ever had to do is mourn the loss of a person who is still alive.

No, I do not want Barbara Gowdy dead! I want her alive and writing. Alas, we are no longer on the same page. (No pun intended? Lame, I know).

There IS a difference knowing your favourite author is dead, and thus can’t write another book, and knowing that your favourite author is alive and out there, probably taking a stroll, and is very capable of writing another novel.

And the worst part about this kind of breakup? Like so many readers who just got out of a relationship, books always had a way of transporting me out of my current reality, helping me to get over my previous relationship. 

Every single time I pick up any book, by any author, my first thought is still, “Damn you, Gowdy. Damn you!”

It doesn’t take a genius, if you’ve read this far, to know how I’m still grieving the fact there will never be a new book written by Barbara Gowdy. Ever.

I first let Gowdy know how I truly felt about her just over a year ago. I was back in school to learn the business side of publishing, and reached out to her via Facebook messenger simply to let her know that one of our assignments was to write about our favourite book and author. 

I wrote to her, "I named The Romantic, which is a “perfect” book, if there is such a thing. Just thought I’d let you know I’ve read The Romantic probably six times, and it always leaves me with such a lasting impression.”

Then I asked the question I wish I had not asked because, like toothpaste, once the question was out, it couldn’t go back in.

“Are you working on something new?” I asked. 

Her response, at first, was quite lovely! She thanked me for the message; she was “touched” I thought her book was “perfect.”

But then…

“No, I’m not writing. I stopped after my last book,” she continued. “I take so long to write a novel and then it doesn't sell very well. At least that's been the case since The White Bone.” 

When I read that, I think my heart stopped beating for a second or two. And maybe it did, because a little piece of me died inside upon learning this news. It really was her and not me.

I wrote back that I was sad to hear this. She responded that there was still money to be made in publishing and that books are still selling, before — BAM! — she hit me with another unwelcome piece of news. 

“As far as my retirement goes….” Barbara Gowdy continued, which immediately made me pause and ponder, "Wait. Authors are allowed to retire?" (Honestly, are they?) 

Personally, I’ve never been invited to a retirement party for an author, where they served a mint chocolate chip ice cream cake with the words, “Congratulations! Happy retirement! ” I’ve never signed a congratulatory card for a painter with, “Retirement! Enjoy the world’s longest coffee break!” 

I had never thought about authors actively retiring before. Now, it's the only thing I think about. My conclusion? In what other industry, but a creative one, does someone not eventually retire or aim for retirement if they choose?

 Sure many musicians go on “farewell tours,” which does sound better than a “retirement tour” that actually lasts years. (Hello, Cher!)

 Why didn't I ever think that authors — just like everyone else — can “retire” or just quit writing for good?

 I had never heard an author refer to no longer writing books as "my retirement" before Barbara Gowdy. But think about it. Why can't she retire? (Aside from disappointing her fans.) She’s 72, let her enjoy life! She deserves it after working — yes working — writing novels for decades.

 As an author, I never really even thought of when I would stop writing, not that I don't think about retirement.

 “I could see that my time was over, and that’s fine. I was never a writer who writes no matter what,” Gowdy explained. Many of her writer friends “can’t help writing every day, though they have lost faith in ever again having much of an audience.” To which I want to scream, “Look at me! I’m a heartbroken audience.”

 Not to be selfish but...what about me? I doubt Barbara thought about how her "retirement" may affect me and her other fans. Doesn’t she have some moral obligation, or commitment, or responsibility, to continue to please her fans by writing? (Apparently, not!)

But, again, in what other non-creative industry is someone not “allowed” to retire if they choose? 

When most people announce their retirements, we congratulate them, throw them celebratory parties, and say, “Enjoy your six-month cruise!” 

 I think we forget authors are human too. (Just a little bit weirder.)  

Did anyone throw a retirement party for Barbara? (I would! So, if anyone actually knows Barbara Gowdy, let her know I’m happy to host.)

 So why can’t, or don’t, authors “retire?”

 First, many writers feel they must write or they will suffer from withdrawal by not getting their “writing fix.” 

 Second, writing doesn’t pay all that well, so an author is often forced to write until they are practically writing their own obituaries. 

 Also, I think many authors get addicted to seeing their name on the cover of books — let’s call this “fame” — so they keep writing, no matter how much money they’ll probably not make, and no matter how tortuous the process is.

 And unlike my dad, now in his 80s, who really DID retire at age 55 and has pretty much done nothing but travel around the world with my mother for 30 FUCKING YEARS, he had this thing called a pension. Authors don’t get pensions. (Do we? If so, how do I get in on that?)

Also, very rarely do authors “announce" their “retirement” or quit writing. Maybe authors, including me, don’t know how to quit or retire from something that many people still don’t consider a career.  Why should having a creative career be any different than having a professional career? (And why can’t a creative career also be a professional one?) Yet it is.

Here’s an example: My mother will invite me to brunch at 10:30 on a Thursday. I don’t think she does this with my brothers, who actually have important jobs in technology that I can’t explain.

 JD Salinger cited “the marvellous peace of not publishing" after stopping in his 40s. In 2006, Annie Proulx claimed she had written her last novel Barkskins, saying she will continue writing but as “a solitary person.” She said, "I cannot bear the signings, interviews, book tours, and all the PR stuff. I hate it. I really, really hate it.” 

 Stephen King proclaimed he was "done writing books,” going out on the top of his game in 2002. Twenty years, the dude has written, like, 20 more novels.

 Alice Munro alluded to “retiring” from writing years before she sadly passed, saying, “I don’t know if I have the energy to do this anymore,” but then went on to write more collections of short stories, not to mention win the Nobel Prize. In 2013, Anne Tyler said, “I want to not ever finish a book again.” Guess what happened? She did.

 Like Gowdy, authors who do decide to stop writing generally just…stop writing, without actually revealing it, maybe hoping no one will notice. Maybe, for many authors, they do feel “it's better to burn out than to fade away,” as Kurt Cobain wrote in his final letter left to his fans (from Neil Young’s, “Hey Hey, My My.”)

 Unless you outright ask an author of Barbara Gowdy’s caliber, readers just assume authors are busy working on their next book. But Barbara Gowdy has also spoken out about living with debilitating back pain that stops her from being able to write.

 Authors age too, which is also something that really never entered my mind. For many aging authors, perhaps the physical pain of sitting and writing for hours isn't worth it or doable. 

 In recent years, there have been a handful of writers who have announced they plan to retire in a few years, like a musician announcing a farewell tour. But can we believe them? 

 Perhaps they just need a break, or a new creative muse, to which they’ll then have to sheepishly admit upon their comeback, "Meh. I was just kidding! I never planned on retiring. My words were taken out of context. Buy my book!”

 Sometimes an author may "retire" because they couldn’t get a book deal — ever— as seen in this piece written by "Anonymous" — which says everything, namely that they are too embarrassed to actually just tell the damn truth and admit, "Um, being an author didn't work out for me. I’m in sales now.”

 “My biggest mistake? Thinking it was my destiny,” writes Anonymous in a piece I read, who had been writing since she was a child. But after getting an agent, and after an initial “flurry of interest” in her first manuscript, it was rejected by every single publishing house. She was crushed.

 Anonymous finished a second novel saying, “It was my masterpiece, but it bombed, too. Years of work and emotional investment wasted, I finally gave up, to save my sanity.”  

 I almost cried reading how Anonymous gave up on her dream. Years later, Anonymous bitterly says how she still feels “scarred” and she can’t ever look at “new fiction” tables, comparing the feeling to being “infertile at a baby shower.”

 There have been authors who have just quit writing, announcing they are quitting writing by writing about quitting writing (Oh, the irony!)

 Maybe authors should be proud to retire if they choose. They should most definitely celebrate it! Why don't they? 

 So, Barbara Gowdy has broken my heart. Her retirement, again, feels like a betrayal, like she’s led me on all these years only to end it abruptly. Yet I admire her for telling the truth, saying she’s retired, even though it's a bitter pill to swallow. 

 I know I shouldn’t feel her retirement is a betrayal, but it does. Knowing there will be no new books from her? It feels like she’s ditched me. But unlike most breakups, I’m not getting rid of everything that reminds me of her: her books. 

 Have any of your favourite authors ever “retired?” Did it feel like a breakup? Tell me here!

 When I “retire" or decide to quit writing, you better believe I'm going to announce it and expect someone, anyone, to throw me a congratulatory fucking literary retirement party, with a sheep cake and cheesy greeting cards. I think I’ve earned it.

xo Rebecca