"Writer's Block" © Inger Klekacz, reproduced under a Creative Commons license
When I saw the headline on a recent article in the Guardian, “Writing for a Living: Joy or Chore?”, I thought I knew what I’d be reading about. The familiar complaints of working writers usually have to do with privation–the scarcity of gigs, the low pay for freelance articles, the shrinking number of places that will publish your work. It usually boils down to this: How in the hell can I get enough work and money to quit my day job and make a modest living doing this?
It’s less often that you hear successful writers talk candidly about the day-to-day joys and petty frustrations of their writerly work lives: what happens after one has gotten to the enviable position of living the dream, earning their keep as a full-time writer.
A.L. Kennedy responds: “The joy of writing for a living is that you get to do it all the time. The misery is that you have to, whether you’re in the mood or not.” Will Self, on the other hand, sees the task as anything but a chore: “I gain nothing but pleasure from writing fiction…. Frankly, if I didn’t enjoy writing novels I wouldn’t do it – the world hardly needs any more and I can think of numerous more useful things someone with my skills could be engaged in.”
A veritable constellation of other literary luminaries–established novelists like Amit Chaudhuri, Hari Kunzru, Julie Myerson, Geoff Dyer, Joyce Carol Oates–weigh in on the question. Their responses are as fascinating as they are varied. Here’s a spoiler: many of them find their success, specifically being in a position where they write creatively for a living, to be more arduous, more painful than they could have imagined. In fact, a number of them admit to regular fantasies of switching to a vocation far more mundane.
I’m struck by the idea that this question is an equally pertinent, intriguing one to pose to other sorts of artists. So, what about it? Do you who earn your livings by being an artist of some kind ever find that the necessities of the grind–the need to make money, to be unrelentingly creative, to hustle up recognition enough to maintain the status quo–suck the joy out of making the artwork? Or, do you find that earning your daily bread by using your artistic talents–whether it’s in performance, film, painting, sculpture, or putting words together on a page–to be an unmitigated pleasure?
To get the ball rolling, I’ll make my own confession: there’s nothing in the world I’d rather do to earn my keep than work with words and writers (and I’m keenly aware that I’m damn lucky to have the job I do in this economic and media climate). BUT some days I dread everything about it, too. The practical concerns of meeting deadlines and making sure everything rolls out on schedule, the interpersonal dramas, the necessarily cut corners and last-minute compromises–the job of it all–are no loftier or more rewarding, in many ways, than I found in any other work I’ve done. I love writing and editing, but I can’t say I always find it delightful.
What about all of you out there? Did any of you land your dream job in a creative field, or finally establish enough patronage to quit your day-job, or get a coveted staff job in performance only to become wistful for your carefree days as an amateur? Have you successfully married the unbridled creative flow of making art with the day-to-day grind?
Is making art, doing your creative thing for a living a joy or a chore?
Please leave a comment below, share a bit of your story.
(Thanks to The Rumpus & Kottke for the link)
I did quit my day job, and I’m so glad I did. But being an independent writer means you’re running a small business. I’m piecing together a writing career that’s part creative and part business writing, so some better-paying projects finance the lower-paying (more enjoyable) ones. That balance feels creatively sustainable to me.
At least at first, the self-promotion part of the job is pretty constant. I’m my own marketer, finance person, client recruiter, administrative assistant…. What’s good about that is that when I land a cool project, I really worked to get it, and there’s a sense of accomplishment there. And if I were writing what’s assigned ALL the time I think it would flatten my creative energy. But it’s also hard because, well, it’s a sales job. You have to sell your ideas and your work in a saturated market. And to me, sales sucks. Regardlss, it is rewarding, and liberating, and has its ups and downs like every job, I think.
Comment by Mary — March 6, 2009 @ 9:58 am
I waited until I was 57 years old to get a day job and after 7 years of doing the day job thing, I just had to go back to being an unemployed studio writer/artist. The job was easy and had lots of art scene recognition and the pay was good. After a life time of struggling in the studio, this was a darn good deal. Or was it? Gosh, one sure can’t gripe about having all their bills paid – so there is that. The rest of the story however, is one of caution because the trade off for artists is considerable. If you are an actual producing writer or some other kind of artist, you give up your productive time by having a real day – or night job. You also give up your productive energy, because it gets used up in the day job thing. You end up trying to be creative and productive in your off time. That means you have to hope like crazy that those creative strokes of genius that you already know tend to come at the most unusual times, will suddenly develope a schedule. Your schedule. That probably won’t happen. On top of that, day jobs tire everyone out. That’s why they invented couch potatoes. And even if you have enough energy left after a day of working a job to stay awake, let’s face it – you need a life. Friends. A family. Social time. Well guess what – if, after working 8 hours, five days a week, you come home and lock yourself in your studio so you can catch up on lost creativity, your friends and family may call the cops. So you see, there’s things to consider. But the biggest consideration of all, in my opinion, is the survival skill factor. As productive artists, we learn all kinds of survival skills to keep our little boats floating. Everything from budgeting, to time management, to marketing, to networking, to deadlines, to presentation, to competition, to – well, you know what I mean, but here’s the deal. When you walk into that day job committment, you effectively take yourself out of the art market as a contender. You might still use some of those skills in a day job kind of way but honestly, who cares? All those survival skills that made it possible for you to keep making art or writing in between gigs? They get rusty fast – and while you’re busy making a steady buck, the market changes. You change too. I know some folks will say “Don’t be ridiculous, Becker. I’m still a major contender even though I spend 8 hours a day in a cubicle answering dumb emails and the rest of my time trying to be creative. Besides, I have to make a living.” OK. No Problem.
Comment by Jack Daryl Becker — March 6, 2009 @ 4:10 pm
Gosh ain’t it tough to “make art” while balancing a “life”. The sad thing is that we assume that we make ART. The reality is that everyone only practices the “craft” that is the base of ART. It is only after our “works based on craft” stand out from the thousands of other efforts that we can look back at ourselves as “Artists”.
There is no sense on wasting a second on resenting our decisions, actions, miss-turns or loses-you just need to keep on doing it. The tragically STUPID of believing in the “art life” is that is a hugh history of what an Artist must-enslave himself to his craft and leave behind and apart from his person the WORK.
Stop whining-work, work,work
coyote in sweat
Comment by coyote — March 17, 2009 @ 1:10 pm