The Price of Expertise

A former student sent me an email a few months ago, asking how he might go about getting his work published. (I resisted the urge to write back and say "If you'd paid attention during class, you'd already know the answer to that question.") Last week he sent me the opening 50 pages of a novel he's been working on. To his credit, he said all the right things in his email: No rush to respond. I know you're busy. Maybe just read the first few pages, when you have the time.

As it happens, this student was a decent writer--he wrote one of the best poems I've ever seen a student produce--and a fairly diligent presence in the classroom. Since he was part of a pretty mediocre (on a good day) workshop group, that's saying something. I'd be happy if he wound up publishing his work someday, and I'll probably take a look at his manuscript for that reason alone. But I can't get past the fact that he, like so many former students, presumes that my expertise should be offered up for free.

I'm sure the basis of that presumption rests on the fact that I'm a teacher. It's my job to disseminate information--why wouldn't I continue to do that long after my students have left my classes, or even graduated from the university? Students just don't make that connection between paying tuition and paying my salary. Many of them don't know anyone else who writes fiction or poetry; even fewer know someone who has successfully published creative work. It makes sense that they'd turn to me for advice, since I fit both of those categories.

And I know my students don't realize that manuscript review is a service I perform--for two to three hundred dollars--on a freelance basis, when a university press needs an outside reviewer. I doubt they ever think about the fact that I paid thousands of dollars in my own tuition--money I'm still paying back in student loans--to gain the knowledge I pass along to them in classroom.

Which leaves me wondering: is my advice presumed to be free after graduation because educators are notoriously underpaid? Perhaps the logic works this way: If I'm willing to work for so little money, why would I mind working for no money at all?

When I mentioned this to my husband, he was quick to point out that people are always asking for free advice: "Should I get this checked out?" they might ask the doctor who happens to live next door and gets paid much more than I do. In truth, that's not too far removed from "Can you tell me if I'm on the right track here?" It's a sort of pre-diagnosis they're asking for--not an expert opinion, not exactly. You haven't named the problem precisely, just indicated that it might exist.

Of course, if I wrote back to this student and said "No, you're definitely on the wrong track here," he'd want to know where and how he'd gone wrong. Without that information, my opinion isn't worth much of anything. It's just a reaction. As I tell my students, there's a big different between saying "I think this sucks" and "I got really confused after page three because . . . " One response simply indicates that the story didn't work for you; the other demonstrates that you've given some thought to why it didn't work.

As I said earlier, I'll probably read what my student sent me. I'll probably send him a response that is at least somewhat specific. And I'll probably feel better for having done this. Really, the bottom line is what's more important to me: to get paid, or to help bring good books into the world? As long as my answer is the latter, not the former, free expertise is the price I'll pay.