Life & Wisdom Quote by Margaret Mahy

A line like this is a quiet rebellion against the myth of the “right” apprenticeship. Margaret Mahy isn’t offering a craft tip so much as permission: if you’re waiting for someone to hand you the secret door into writing, you’re already stuck outside. The phrasing matters. “Has to” carries necessity, not romance. Writing isn’t a hobby you stumble into; it’s an act of self-engineering. And “their own way” denies the industry’s favorite fantasy that there’s a single ladder to climb - MFA, workshop polish, a certain kind of reading list, the correct literary accent.

Mahy’s context sharpens the message. As a New Zealand children’s author who became internationally revered, she came from a literary ecosystem that didn’t automatically confer center-stage legitimacy. Her career is a reminder that “way into writing” often includes detours: librarianship, local publishing scenes, oral storytelling traditions, the lived textures of a place far from the big gates of London or New York. The subtext is anti-gatekeeping without being anti-discipline. She’s not saying rules don’t exist; she’s saying rules don’t initiate you.

There’s also a sly nudge to stop imitating the sheen of other people’s voices. “Way into writing” suggests entry, not arrival - the point where you cross from wanting to write to building a practice that fits your temperament. For children’s literature especially, it’s a subtle insistence that imagination isn’t standardized. The route is personal because the work is, too.