R=E=S=P=E=C=T
Carolyn Marie Souaid
It is clear to us that the largest subsidy to the cultural life of Canada comes, not from governments, corporations or other patrons, but from the artists themselves through their unpaid or underpaid labor.
— from the Applebaum / Hébert Federal CulturalPolicy Review Committee (1982)
Nearly three decades have passed since Louis Applebaum and Jacques Hébert reported on the deplorable economic status of artists. Their 1982 report was the first review of Canadian cultural institutions and federal cultural policy since the Massey Commission report of 1951, which directly facilitated the founding of the Canada Council.
Despite some improvement in the circumstances of some artists through grants and programs afforded by the Canada Council for the Arts and the Conseil des arts et letters du Quebec (CALQ), it still appears that the average writer in Quebec, if not Canada, is unable to earn a decent wage from his or her art. Poets are arguably worse off than their fiction-writing cousins for reasons that have more to do with the genre they have chosen than the quality of their output. It is basic economics. Fewer readers mean fewer books sold. Fewer sales mean less money. It is no secret that most poets have at least one day-job to help them cover the rent.
The average print run of a Canadian poetry title is 500 copies, many of which end their days warehoused in the basement of the small literary press that believed in the work enough to publish it. The few lucky volumes that find their way into the stacks of Heather Reisman’s soap and incense emporium barely have time to gather dust waiting on an impoverished market of readers before they are shipped back to their distributer like unwanted orphans.
The sad truth of the matter is that poets are underpaid and undervalued in our society, despite voices that resurface from time to time echoing Shelley’s declaration that they are the unacknowledged legislators of the world. That they (we) are underpaid irks me, but I am a realist. After high school, most people never connect with poetry again except, of course, when they need some lyrical tidbit for a business luncheon or a wedding or a funeral. That eloquent couplet that says the unsayable or captures what it truly means to be human in an increasingly dehumanized world. And even then, a little Googling and a quick surf of the web with all the right keywords is all it takes. No need to navigate your way through the dizzying array of candles and gift items at Chapters/Indigo, staking out just the right poetry book for the occasion. But I digress. The point is: no sales, no income. No respect.
And perhaps income is too extravagant a word for the meager coin that a poet’s focused labour generates. In actual fact, if one is lucky enough to publish a book, the standard Canadian contract pays out a mere ten per cent in royalties. In dollars and cents, this means that if the book sells for $10 in the store, the one who penned the work earns all of a buck. If lucky enough to sell all 500 copies published (a rarity) then the grand total for a year or more of work can reach as high as five hundred dollars!
It is true: No one forced me to become a poet. No one forced me up against the wall and at gunpoint threatened me to “Be a poet or else!” Poetry is what I do because it is my calling, the same way that others put their nose to the grindstone to become a doctor or lawyer. And poetry is no less a vocation. Serious poets do not write poetry as a hobby, though some might think so. I’m thinking of the white-collar professionals I know who say they will “take up” poetry when they retire, perhaps even write a book. As though poetry were something that anyone can do in their spare time.
I am getting used to the fact that the average lay person considers poetry an “extra” – a luxury we can dispose of during tough economic times. However, it is an even bigger insult when poets are undervalued by those “who should know better.” I am referring to those teachers – usually a more enlightened group – who recognize that classroom visits by writers is a good motivator for their students.
Several years ago, the Quebec government instituted the Culture in the Schools program, which subsidizes two-thirds of the cost of school visits by artists of all stripes, including poets. It also funds a free class set of an author’s books for each day of visits to the school. No one would deny that this is a win-win situation for both school and writer. All a teacher has to do is download a form from the Ministry website, fill it in and wait for a reply. But despite the wide availability of this program, there are teachers out there who still have the audacity to ask me to drop by their class (on my own time) and give a free workshop. As though somehow I should be grateful for being asked to share my art. Some even think they are helping my cause, affording me free publicity. As though immediately following my class visit, students will start talking me up on the bus and in their blogs, text messaging favourite lines to one another. And what about all the time and effort it takes to plan a successful poetry workshop? Doesn’t that deserve to be remunerated? They, above all – teachers – should recognize that one doesn’t just walk into a classroom and deliver a brilliant lesson. It has taken me no less than a decade to develop and fine-tune the workshop activities I offer.
My initial reaction when approached for a freebie is more about getting my blood pressure back to normal levels than about being flattered. Not that I blame such teachers for their efforts to go above and beyond the call of duty, meaning the Quebec Education Program. Thumbs up, I say, for wanting to introduce students to a living, breathing writer. Thumbs up for wanting to expose them to new ways of seeing the world, new ways of creating art and literature. I want to commend them for their initiative. But by asking for a freebie, they are effectively undervaluing the work that I do. Would these same people teach an extra period in the day or agree to more supervision duty without being paid for it? I doubt it.
Perhaps some of it is our own fault, too. Perhaps if we got together and lobbied for our rights then the public at large would have a better sense of who we are and what we do. Perhaps Canadians would then start to believe that culture is a necessary and integral part of our lives. In the decade that I have been a member of the League of Canadian Poets, I have never seen an increase in reading fees paid out by the Canada Council for the Arts, despite an ongoing increase in the cost of living. For as long as I can remember, I have been getting paid $250 for a solo reading and $125 for a half or joint reading. And while some people might argue that this is ample remuneration for “getting up and reading a few poems,” it is important to note that there is a restriction on the number of readings allowed – the maximum being two full or four half readings per author, per fiscal year. (Furthermore, those “few poems” being shared with an audience may have taken days if not weeks to complete.) The cap on readings puts a severe damper on how much income can be earned through Canada’s reading programs. To my knowledge, none of the poets I know personally has ever militantly fought for an increase, something that would be clearly justifiable.
The fact of the matter is, many times we aren’t even paid for our readings since countless reading series across the country are dependent on funding from national organizations such as the Canada Council and there is simply not enough of the pie to go around.
One last pet peeve: those who think they should get a “free” copy of a poet’s book just because they know him/her. I wouldn’t dream of asking my lawyer friends to work pro bono for me. I wouldn’t embarrass myself. In fact, anyone who attends a book launch or public reading should really consider supporting the poet, especially if he or she is a friend. That means purchasing a copy. Ten or fifteen dollars, the average cost of a book of poems, is not too much to dish out. Most of us never think twice about paying roughly the same price to see a movie. And if there is a small cover charge for admission – usually no more than $5 – it is sometimes just another way to pass the hat.
The bottom line is poets work hard, so respect us. Pay us a fair wage. Read our work. Don’t assume we are desperate to give away our writing because readers are few and far between. We are only grateful to those who see us as a valuable commodity and, as such, pay us our due without grumbling about budget cuts and the ailing economy.
