“If I had kids, my kids would hate me. They would have ended up on the equivalent of the Oprah show talking about me; because something [in my life] would have had to suffer and it would've probably been them.” — Oprah Winfrey in The Hollywood Reporter

I was once a wanted woman in Maui. Actually, I was a wanted mother in Maui.

I’m on my last two brain cells, so bear with me. I used to have functioning brain cells; traded them years ago in exchange for being a mother, who is a full-time writer/author — one who has started to get multiple Mother’s Day gift guides in my inbox.

Before getting into why the authorities were on the hunt for me (okay, it was hotel security at the Four Seasons) you need to understand WOKE.

And no, it’s not that “woke.”

Long before today’s woke culture, there was the original WOKE. As someone who has, along with many other female writers, experienced the real WOKE, I am offended by the acronym appropriation being perpetrated. 

I'm kidding.

You see, WOKE was not a movement, an ideology, or a social conscious reckoning. Women who are, or want, to be full-time authors, editors, or publishers individually experience a very personal and conflicting dilemma — the Writing or Kids Epiphany (aka WOKE).  

WOKE women know that being a full-time author, or working in any aspect of publishing, AND having children go together as well as toothpaste and orange juice (cringe). After having The Writing or Kids Epiphany (#SlowClap #trailblazers #WOKE), so many talented hard-working females in publishing have chosen deadlines over doctor’s appointments, bylines over babies, and manuscripts over motherhood.

“As a writer — a vocation that demands long hours of uninterrupted solitude — I have sometimes thought I’d be more accomplished had I chosen to be childless,” Randye Hoder wrote in this Washington Post piece, “Why these childless by choice writers have so much in common with me, a mom of two.” 

Homer introduces us to Meghan Daum, who edited the book Selfish, Shallow, and Self-Absorbed: Sixteen Writers on the Decision Not to Have Kids.

Author Sigrid Nunez recalls in her essay, “No young woman aspiring to literary career could ignore the fact women writers of the highest achievement, like Jane Austen, the Brontes, George Eliot, and Virginia Wolf, did not have children.” 

The rest of Nunez’s essay is devoted to famous female writers who gave birth to unwanted children, left their children, or who — like Sylvia Plath — were tortured at not being able to have both a meaningful career and kids.

Some women (maybe regretfully, maybe not) were too busy making deadlines that their deadline for having a baby just flew by as they brought books into the world instead of babies. 

Or maybe they never had their WOKE — Writing or Kids Epiphany — moment. 

Alice Walker said women (well, female artists) should have children in this article, “The Secret to Being Both a Successful Writer and a Mother: Have Just One Kid.”

"They should have children — assuming this is of interest — but only one. Because with one you can move. With more than one you're a sitting duck.”

Many female authors who went through The Writing or Kids Epiphany — WOKE — are one-and-done mommies, like Margaret Atwood, who became a mother in 1978 at age 38.

I often wonder about Atwood’s only child, Jess, in her forties and her relationship with such a famous hard-working mother — who, FYI, lives and works in Brooklyn, attended Yale, and based on the little info out there on her, looks like a lot of fun. (Atwood is also a stepmother to her husband’s two children; the late author Graeme Gibson passed in 2020.) 

Have you ever heard Atwood talking about being a mother? How did she manage to write 17 novels, 17 books of poetry, 10 books of nonfiction, eight children’s books, three graphic novels, AND be a mommy? (Does she babysit?)

Atwood wrote The Handmaid’s Tale when her daughter was seven or eight? Did her kid not jump on her bed in the middle of the night to tell her she lost a sock, is hungry, or wants to know the meaning of life?

While laser-focused on writing the perfect sentence, was Atwood never interrupted by her kid asking for snacks — “I want toast medium with Nutella thinly spread, cut in triangles on an orange plate. No, not that one! Actually, now I just want a bowl of cereal.” — three times a day until she collapsed lost all train of thought?

Many other revered writers also stopped at one child, including Susan Sontag, Joan Didion, Mary McCarthy, Elizabeth Hardwick, and Ellen Willis, to name a few.

These authors understand that being a mother and a full-time writer is often an inherent contradiction.

In any case, I really was asked to get the fuck off the property kindly leave the Four Seasons in Maui while I was on “maternity leave” with my then newborn daughter.

It had always been a dream to live, or at least spend a significant amount of time, in Maui. When else, I remember thinking that except on maternity leave, would I have the chance to spend so many consecutive weeks in such an idyllic beachfront setting?

NEVER! 

Because I loved my job, I basically was designing a life where being a mother fit into my career as a journalist, writer, and author. 

A year after my daughter was born, Sex and the City author Candace Bushnell said her “work was her child.”

"I think [writing] is a career where you have to put the career first. I don't have kids but — and luckily everyone isn't like this — I think if you have that passion, in a way, your career is your child.”

In any case, I was standing by the pool, wrapped in a fluffy towel with the Four Seasons logo, while downing a bottle of water, also with the Four Seasons logo.

I had just finished a water aerobics class while my daughter slept in her stroller facing me. Prior to that, I had taken a spin class in their fitness centre, where my daughter also slept in her stroller next to my bike.

I had trained my newborn to be on this specific schedule. I remember thinking — maybe a little selfishly — that I had to design a life where my beautiful baby daughter would fit into my schedule, and not the other way around.

If I were to continue to be a full-time journalist and author, this was the only way it was going to work. My daughter was six months old when she attended her first book launch — for Knocked Up. She has been my date for numerous book launches. 

When I went on book tours, I would take her along. She made her first public appearance on a national morning show, sitting on my lap as I was being interviewed.

She came with me almost everywhere — like to the Four Seasons Maui — where we were both booted out.

I knew my gig was up when I saw a security guard walking towards me.

Apparently, staff had been warned to be on the lookout. There was even a photograph of my pretty mug that had been passed around during the staff’s morning meetings — meetings where employees also learn which celebrities or VIPS were checking in.

The Guest Experience Manager — aka security — didn't want to cause a scene. 

I had a newborn sleeping in a stroller.

“We were guests. I’m renting a unit in the condo next door,” I said, adding, “I thought I was allowed to use the facilities here.”

This wasn’t untrue. 

I was swiftly told the obvious. “No. You need to be a guest of the hotel.”

What can I say? I had a pretty good run — 11 weeks! — and in my defence, the fitness instructor wanted me in her classes because she needed participants in order to keep her job. 

There was another problem in Maui all those years ago, which was…I didn’t actually take maternity leave! 

I don't have many regrets, but not taking advantage of Canada’s liberal maternity leave is something I do think about. That being said, I’m not sure I would have done it any other way. 

When I gave birth to my son a decade later, I didn't take maternity leave either. I was too fucking WOKE. The Writing or Kids Epiphany only led to the conclusion that I wanted to be both.

I often wonder how the hell I managed to write 10 books AND countless articles while also being a single mother.

The answer, of course, is boarding school I actually don’t fucking know.

Actually, I absolutely do know. It’s called having help — something that I’m blessed to have. Rather, and I can't stress this enough, I write to make money to be able to afford to pay for help to look after my children, so I can be free to write.

I know, I know, put your fucking violin away, you’re probably thinking. Plenty of women with children with no help manage to write. But plenty have not. Either way, it is fucking hard!

Lara Feigel is the author of Free Woman: Life, Liberation and Doris Lessing. Lessing was famously known, and widely judged, for leaving both her marriage and her children to pursue her career as a writer. (Obviously, her Writing or Kids Epiphany leaned way to the Writing side!) 

In The Guardian article “The parent trap: can you be a good writer and a good parent?” Figle writes of her maternal ambivalence. 

She often took mini-solo writing trips — like writing retreats — which she says were necessary. “Those were weeks when I needed to regain the selfishness of my previous life in order to write, in which my child needed to be out of mind as well as out of sight.”

While my baby weight eventually disappeared, my ambition to write did not. When I should have just been whale watching, I was still writing and filing columns, editing my memoir, Knocked Up, putting a proposal together for a follow-up memoir, all with a baby I adored.

When an editor would reach out asking me to write about something, I never said no. It led me to wonder if my desire to be a successful writer was stronger than my desire to be a successful mother. It was almost impossible to focus on writing a coherent sentence when my baby woke me up numerous times a night. I found myself so tired that singing the alphabet went something like, “a, b, c, d, e, f, seven…”

Was it possible that my compulsion to write was entirely equal to my compulsion to be a mother? I yearned for both. 

For many women who choose to have a writing career, having a following, seeing your byline, or getting another book deal becomes an aphrodisiac. Or an addiction akin to wanting Instagram likes.

I love being a mother. I love writing. It hurts not to write. It hurts not spending time with my kids. I know people will say that ALL working mothers feel guilty, but being a writer-mother is just…different.

While the guilt is palpable at times, if I’m being honest, I’m okay most times not being a #BossMom or #SuperMom. I am content to be a “good enough” mother, like picking an apple from the produce section. “It looks a little bruised. But good enough!” #GoodEnoughMother

While I would love to be a Pinterest mom, I'm more of an Amazon Prime mom. I refer to the last couple of years — when I had to homeschool my kids while writing on deadlines — The Year of the Bribe.

“Just let Mommy finish this and you can order anything off Amazon under $40,” I found myself saying to my eight-year-old son — all so Mommy could write and meet her deadlines.

Joan Didion wrote about her life as the mother of an only child in Blue Nights, her beautiful heartbreaking memoir on the death of her only daughter, Quintana. 

Quintana, Didion writes, once nailed a list of "Mom's Sayings" to the garage door: "Brush your teeth, brush your hair, shush I'm working."

In reviews, the "shush I'm working" saying became a symbol of Didion's maternal negligence.

Women writers were quick to pass judgement. ”Where was Quintana," author-mom Caitlin Flanagan asked, "when Didion was living at the Faculty Club, or finishing her novels at her parents' house…not with her mother." Ironic, since Flanagan wrote about parenting while a full-time nanny cared for her twins.

What's wrong with "Shush I'm working?” I say it all the time! Is there a writer in the world who has not uttered those exact words? 

So, aspiring writers, and authors, if you really want to write full time — the average writer makes about $9,000 a year — and be a mother, I hope you’re born into wealth, find yourself a sugar daddy or mommy (#NoJudgement), or find another job that can pay your bills while you write on the side.

At the very least?  Make sure you pick a partner who supports you emotionally, if not financially, with an understanding you need dedicated time to write and that they’ll have to pick up a lot of the parenting slack. This applies if married, separated, living together, or living apart.

Two years after my son’s birth in 2012, Elizabeth Gilbert wrote, "I have come to believe there are three sorts of women when it comes to maternity. There are women born to be mothers, women who are born to be aunties, and women who should not be allowed within 10 feet of a child. It’s really important to know which category you belong to…"

(Actually, Gilbert left out a couple of categories: those that get drunk and have unprotected sex resulting in pregnancy and women whose ovaries scream so loud that it takes over any rational thought, leading to a midlife crises baby. Let’s just say I fit into both categories.)

I don’t think there is one mother who read and loved Eat Pray Love who wasn’t left thinking, “If I wasn’t my kid's ride, and if my kid wasn't living their Best Life on my dime, I could use a year to travel the world and find myself," before finding ourselves back to reality, answering calls from friends saying, “Hey, you! Can I call you back in, like, five years or so?”

Gilbert knew having a baby was never her destiny. “There is a curious rush of joy that I feel, knowing this to be true…Me, I'm just not a mom…"

I have no doubt that I am a good mother. I rarely second guess how I parent. Does parenting affect my writing? Parenting affects everything! Good or bad, I managed to stick it to WOKE. 

“Should Sheila Heti Have a Baby?” was a headline I had to click. (Admittedly, for a nano-second, I thought we would get to vote on this decision!) 

Written just after the publication of the Canadian author’s autobiographical novel Motherhood, the piece starts by asking, “Why have a baby? For a woman in her 20s or 30s accustomed to living independently, who feels no religious or familial obligation to bear children, the answer comes down to the vagaries of desire…”

Heti started writing Motherhood in her 30s when her uncertainty about motherhood made her feel like she was in a constant state of limbo. She hadn’t managed to get WOKE —The Writing or Kids Epiphany.

Following Heti’s own life as a child had left her questioning whether children “can ever be a pleasure rather than a source of pain,” and her inherited ambition made her wonder how having a child might affect her as a writer.

But her narrator also wonders, “Could I ever hope to be a good enough writer — capture on the page what being human felt like — if I had not experienced motherhood?” (Meh, she could hire a sensitivity reader, which I write about here, because at this rate, child-free women writers are going to be called out for writing a fictional account of being a mother. I kid. Sort of.)

So, if I have offended today’s WOKE, all I can say is, “Shush I’m working!”

xo

Until next time, flip your hair and flip the page! (Even if you need to hide in your dryer from your kids!)

Rebecca