Zibby Mag

By Ann Garvin

I got fired.

This is not a new story, but it is a true story.

Several years ago, I blissfully, joyfully taught creative writing in a Master of Fine Arts program in New Hampshire and I got fired. Unceremoniously and without cause, I was let go.

The phone rang at 8 p.m. on a Sunday night. The kids were asleep. I picked it up, and the program director said, “Ann, I’m calling to tell you that we aren’t having you back next semester.”

My heart hammered, my breath caught in my throat, and I said, “, I am stunned. I don’t know what to say.”

Friends, this was my dream job. I loved the faculty—they had become my best friends. I still keep in touch with a lot of the students. The side hustle salary made my divorced, single mother, full-time Wisconsin professor life actually doable. It meant I could save for college for my kids and retirement. More than that, the experience of teaching writing felt like living and working in a candy store, and everything on the shelves had zero calories.

“Why? Why are you letting me go?” I said, feeling terrified that I’d done something egregious. Had I offended a student? Broke a significant rule? Done something to poison my beloved position?

I had wonderful teaching evaluations—I’d been a teacher for twenty-six years with many awards, hundreds of thank-you notes from students, and tons of credibility for my skills. I have a PhD in education.

“Your next book isn’t going to be a big book.”

“My next book isn’t going to be a big book?”

“No. It’s not.”

My heart rate slowed, I stopped shaking, and my throat was no longer dry. I straightened my shoulders, though he couldn’t see it over the phone.

I knew what this was.

The director wasn’t predicting the future, telling me my book wouldn’t be a big book. He didn’t read my books. He wasn’t firing me for my teaching.

He was firing me because of his opinion of my writing.

His opinion was that I didn’t write “big books.” A big book is an important book that holds a mirror up to society, brings truths to light, gets on lists, wins literary awards, and the authors become part of our cultural zeitgeist.

I’m a woman who writes about people who do too much in a culture that asks too much from them. I use humor to highlight it all and make it hurt a little less. His latest book had released around the same time; it was about different generations of parenting, background, and loyalty—apparently, according to him, a contender for the big-book moniker.

He did to me what we do to people who threaten us.

He put me in my place. And that place was far away from him because he thought I was inferior and that might rub off on him if I hung around his program.

Maybe you’re saying to yourself, “Well, it’s possible that she doesn’t write well. He fired her because her writing wasn’t up to the standards of the program.”

I would have to reply with my resume of awards, and the other Master of Fine Arts programs that have either hired me as a guest teacher or as faculty. I would list the fellowships I have applied to and received on the basis of my writing and I would go on to point out that over 80% of published authors stop after 3 books. About 10% of published authors make it to six books. I just sold my sixth to one of the big publishers.

I’d go on to say, “Isn’t that always the way it is for women?” You say you’ve experienced something, an inequity, a slight, an injustice, and the world says, “I’ll believe you when you prove you didn’t somehow ask for it.” We’ve been conditioned.

But finally, and most importantly, I would say I wished I’d had the presence of mind to say to the director back in 2016, when he took away a large part of my livelihood based on his belief, “Sir, I don’t write for you. I teach for you.”

Why didn’t I say that? For many reasons. As a nurse, I was written up by a physician for insubordination for clarifying the dosage of a drug he prescribed. As a graduate student, I protested after being called the research study cheerleader instead of co-investigator. The result? I was promptly removed from the paper when it was published. As a new professor, I asked for equity of research space and the dean said, “Are you sure that is a hill you want to die on?”

Why am I telling you?

Because I know this has happened to you as well.

It’s time for all of us to stop feeling shame about something that has nothing to do with us.

It’s time for us to stop biting our tongues regardless of the situation.

Every time I talk about getting fired, I feel better. And writing about it reminds me not to diminish people.

It can feel good to put down someone who is doing well, and it’s usually pretty easy to do, because they always use the same trite phrases.

In the writing world—this is how it sounds:

• “She wrote it, but it’s not literary.”

• “It’s women’s fiction.”

• “She writes genre fiction or commercial fiction.”

• “It’s easy to write those books. There’s a formula.”

• “She wrote it, but she had help.”

• “She writes like a man.”

• “Your book isn’t going to be a big book.”

So, what happened to the book he fired me for? It made the USA Today Bestseller list, was number one on Amazon for a week, and sold enough books for me to quit my tenured teaching job and write full-time.

His book? Yeah, it flopped big time. Am I diminishing him with my opinion? Nope, there’s data.

People get fired all the time. When it happened to me, it helped me figure out how to be aware of my petty jealousies and hierarchical thinking. It made me be a better person which will ultimately make me a better writer.

Thank goodness I didn’t bite my literary tongue and stop writing.

You can see for yourself, if you like. I have a book coming out in August of this year.

Is it going to be a big book?

It’s big for me. And that’s what matters.

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Ann Garvin, Ph.D., is a scientist turned humorist and USA Today best-selling author of five books. Her forthcoming book, There’s No Coming Back From This, is available for pre-order now. She teaches writing at Drexel University’s Masters of Fine Arts program in PA, NYC, and France. Ann is the founder of the award-winning The Tall Poppy Writers, the only scaled, author-driven marketing cooperative in the U.S. that is exclusive to female authors who publish in a variety of genres—and is devoted to amplifying women’s voices.