Oct 1, 2009
A Creative Living?
Where’s the line between supporting yourself and driving yourself crazy?
I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately.
Supporting yourself: I mean, doing the minimum to pay your bills, your rent, your pub landlords. I do not mean doing the minimum to simply survive. I consider supporting yourself to be survival + luxury, of a sort. The luxury of a pint or two; the luxury of buying a new pair of boots when your old ones disintegrate (I know a lot about this; I’m dealing with the loss of my favourite old pair); the luxury of not waking up in the middle of the night every month coated in sweat wondering if your rent cheque is going to bounce, again. That kind of luxury–not the business-class, designer shoes, king-sized bed kind.
Supporting yourself to this degree shouldn’t be–and generally isn’t–difficult, provided you’re content with your work; or at least, not actively aspiring to do something else. If you are actively aspiring to do something else, things become complicated. It suddenly becomes tempting to think that if you cut a few hours at the office here and there, you’d have so much more time for your art (or whatever it is that wants your time more than endless phone calls to the IT guy and empty lunchtime chitchat). And of course, you could cut a few hours. You could tighten your belt. You could avoid the pub at all costs, wear jumpers with holes (which are sure to come into fashion at some point, anyhow), eat like the mythical starving college student, swear off travel, bookshops, wine–whatever it is that you sink your money into. With all that inherited time, you could make something great.
It doesn’t work, of course. I know it doesn’t work, and there are plenty of people ready to remind me when I can’t remind myself (try him if you need it spelled out in plain and ever-so-slightly annoying English). I know it doesn’t work from experience. I’ve had several spells of voluntary unemployment, and here’s what I did: I bought things. I burned through several thousand dollars worth of savings. Then I avoided going hungry by cutting out every pleasure I could think of. I worried. I sweated. I cried. I lived off credit cards and desperation. I picked fights with everyone, especially the poor sod who has to live with me and who doesn’t, as a freelancer, make enough money to keep both himself and his book-buying girlfriend afloat. I’ll tell you what I didn’t do, in any of those intervals: write anything that made it all worth it. It turns out you can’t just cut things from your life and carry on as you were before. (And I obviously can’t cut the pub: it’s where some of the most inspiring and exciting collaborative things often happen).
I’m certainly not sitting on three-quarters of a novel because of the times I didn’t work. I’ve got my 60,000 words because I did something stupid a few months ago and took on two jobs (one of which I genuinely love) and a full-time Masters, and then when I got home, or to the pub, I sat and wrote. Was it some form of inertia? The effect of the MA? Or was I simply motivated by how much I did not want to have to make photocopies for a living anymore? Impossible to tell; but I can say with some confidence that being able to buy the occasional dress on eBay and order takeout Chinese helped. Perhaps after all, it’s simply about focusing your energy, using it not for fretting but for creation.
I know all that. But still. It’s tempting. What I wonder is, where is the point at which temptation becomes distraction? At the moment I can just about bear my photocopying job with a pained grin, but on bad days I sit at my desk fantasizing about artfully worded letters of resignation. The thing that always stops me is that simple little thought: support yourself.
So. Here’s what I want to know. (It’s okay if there isn’t an answer. In fact, I doubt there is. But I want it to be talked about anyway, because I think it’s important, and because I’m selfish enough to hope that with enough talk I might be able to find an answer for myself.) Is there a way to support yourself, as an artist/writer/musician/dancer/thinker/collaborator/whatever, that balances survival with intellectual stimulation? Or is that friction between want and need part of some necessary process in the early days of a creative career?
Let me know. Or don’t. But do think of me if you’re ever in need of a writer/researcher with a background in politics and literature who hates photocopying and big, boring, black PCs.
I have a slightly different view. Paying the essential bills (food, heat, light, rent) and not worrying about bouncing cheques is a given, not a luxury. Luxury is buying new clothes, papers, books, music, booze, fags and all other non-essentials.
Yes, I think it’s possible to pay the essentials in a non-mainstream role. But one probably has to work at it to carve the niche out in the first place – otherwise how are one’s employers supposed to know about the services that one provides!
I’ll let you know how I do it, when I figure it out. So far, I have successfully quit my job and am making some money writing about interesting things, but it’s not quite enough for comfortable living. Maybe finding a part-time job that doesn’t suck (working at a cheese store has always been my fantasy) is the answer. I know this – the level of Hell I was in working full time for people and a place I hated, while trying to write, is something I will never put myself through again. Never put my *boyfriend* through again. It’s all about finding balance.
I too will let you know if I find a way – and as a fellow writer/researcher with a background in politics I wonder if we should go into business together!
One of the best bits of advice that Dad has ever given me is that energy isn’t like exactly like time, where the more you spend the less you have. This truth explains why you got nothing done when you were unemployed and why Oxford University athletes often get better than average grades, despite their massive training schedules. I too thrive on all fronts when I am busy, and have an appalling time when I’m not.
I must say that there is a lot to be said for a regular paycheck. Far from stifling creativity, I think it would liberate mine right now. I’d accept that the hours of 9-5 were not my own, and would give little or no thought to the job outside of that time.
By contrast, having to look for work on a regular basis is incredibly draining and irritating. For example, I am typing this in a library, and even though I am fundamentally gentle and he is about 6’7, a part of me wants to punch the bloke next to me in the face, because he is talking with utter abandon. That feeling is in no small part explained by my ongoing stress about not having a regular income.
The flip side is that once you’ve built a freelance empire, you are much more secure than with a salaried job. And a job working with or for horrid people is ghastly.
So why not do what I am doing – i.e. pursue both possibilities at the same time? Look out for good freelance and good salaried opportunities, and see what looks like a good fit.
And make time for your brilliant writing no matter how knackered / busy you are, because in due course you WILL be doing that on a full-time, highly successful basis.
Thanks for comments!
Brennig–I agree with your idea of carving out my own niche. I suppose it wouldn’t be an original way of life if somebody else had already done it before, in the exact same way. We all have different interests and skills, and the best way to utilize them is to convince people that what they need is precisely what we have to offer.
LV–Am excited to hear how you get on. You’ve gone and done what so many of us dream of (and, on bad days, talk of quite seriously); it sounds scary, but potentially amazing. Good luck!
Tom–Am definitely pursuing both possibilities at the moment. I think open-mindedness at this point is key. And I like the energy thing–definitely worth remembering, especially when I’m tempted to throw in the towel behind the excuse of weariness! And perhaps we should go into business together, under the auspices of Xander’s baby, Has Legs…!
I just wrote a much longer response, but decided to shorten it to get to the point.
I was an actress in LA for the last 8 years. I took a job in casting to learn the other side of the business, as well as pursue my dreams.
It taught me that to take a job that wasn’t just easy and paid the bills actually helped motivate me in other areas, kept my mind constantly thinking and introduced me to people who could help steer me in the right direction for my career. Plus, it kept me in the forefront of the industry. People were now coming to me for favors.
So, maybe a job in editing or publishing? Just an idea…
[...] it is, maybe it isn’t (see my post on this here). But this isn’t about “making it” as an artist, necessarily (though it certainly could [...]
After reading all this (and comments) I find that as a writer/traveler/musician that the thing we reach for we never really catch. It continues to move. Actually we attain the earlier goal but are constantly lookin above it and don’t realize we attained the earlier goal. This is true of playin an instrument. I learned this working with a lead guitar player, who I thought was so accomplished, so expressive, so in control of his tone. I found it unbelievable he was not satisfied, EVER! Only years later in retrospect did I realize that he never would be truly satisfied, thank God!
In regard to living life, as a creative, I think Laren’s comment of balance is true. For four years I played solo gigs up and down the east coast full time, which I booked, promoted, etc. myself and played 4-5 nights a week. Mind you singing and playing guitar for an hour is the most exhausting activity I know. I always looked forward to playing but lost some of the passion during that time. When I regrouped and worked various jobs, while playing on the weekends, the passion returned with a vengance. Now I paint houses with a friend (a drummer) in the summer and play the weekends. In the winter I’m back to 4-5 nites a week. The spring seems to come in time to save me from the dreaded passion loss. Yeah ist’s an ever moving thing.