Why Amy Glass Is Wrong

Why Amy Glass Is Wrong

You will never have the time, energy, freedom or mobility to be exceptional if you have a husband and kids. ~Amy Glass

This is the only sentence of Amy Glass’ inflammable article, “I Look Down On Young Women With Husbands And Kids And I’m Not Sorry,” that I wish to address.

I wish to address it because, at one point in my life, I believed it was true.

Although I cherished my husband, I started to panic a few months after we married because I was not writing. Immature as I was, I believed it was because I had chosen love over art.

Sometimes, after working in our grocery store, I would drive to the pond on the outskirts of town and take long walks around the perimeter. I remember standing on the duck-soiled dock and looking out over the water, dramatically squeezing out three or four tears because I pitied myself.

Poor thing, here I had a husband who adored me and a roof over my head (we lived in an apartment adjacent to the store); I worked in our store when I wanted to and could write on my own time.

The thing is, though, I wasn’t writing.

My husband encouraged me to write, and when that didn’t help, he told me to give myself a few months. The desire would come back on its own.

But three months passed, and I had no words to show for them.

About a week later, I decided being dramatic wasn’t getting me anywhere. My writer’s block had nothing to do with the fact that I had gotten married. It had everything to do with the fact that I was scared to begin writing again.

Marriage had become my excuse, my escape goat from failure.

My long-suffering husband cheered me on as I sat at the desk in our office and started to tentatively type, like a child taking steps for the first time.

Slowly but surely, I started to find my writing rhythm. I would work in the store for four hours each day and write for four hours in the office.

Not once did my husband ask if I ever expected to receive compensation for my writing; not once did he begrudge me those four hours I sat on my hind end.

He knew that writing fed my spirit (and made me a happier wife!), so he did everything he could to show his support.

Now, five years later, I am still writing. I am even getting paid.

My husband has been my first reader and editor for my past four novels: one locked in a drawer, one published, one about to be published, and one in the editing stage.

He has helped me untangle plot snarls and strengthen my writing by trimming away fat.

He has even had the bravery to tell me when something isn’t working; no one else would know that though my eyes may flash fire, it is better to wait me out than tuck tail and run.

And this is why Amy Glass is wrong. Without my husband’s unwavering encouragement, without his gift of energy and time, there is no way I would be where I am today.

My dreams are not paled by marriage; instead, they are made more vibrant for sharing them with someone who–for better or for worse–has never left my side.

(My writing friend Gayle Thompson wrote a great response to Amy Glass’ article. It can be found here.)