The Well-Fed Artist

Money is on my mind lately. So I was intrigued by this post at Type Faster, where Anne Merril muses on the downsides of the "starving artist" myth:

I'm sitting here, trying to imagine what [being broke] must be like. We're not rich, my partner and I, nor even what I would consider "well-off" in terms of money. But we manage to pay our bills, pay off a mortgage and save money. Not a lot, but enough for emergencies. This is with my partner out of work at the moment. We're survivng entirely on my wage, which is at the low end of the middle-class wage.

I could never, ever stand living hand to mouth. That sort of existance doesn't interest me in the slightest. How on earth can artists afford materials if they can't pay the rent? Writers are a little better off, because all you need to write is paper and imagination. But eventually you'll need a computer, and a printer, and money for postage, and...

Merril concludes that she's not cut out for starving:

What was the moral of this post? Oh yes! I'd rather work hard and live comfortably and sacrifice art time than starve but have hours and hours to create.

So, I probably won't be a successful artist or writer. On the other hand, I have a great credit rating and I'm not desperately scrabbling for every cent.

This, for me, is contentment.

Her balance of job and art reminds me of the Sex and Cash Theory posited by Hugh MacLeod at gapingvoid:

"The creative person basically has two kinds of jobs: One is the sexy, creative kind. Second is the kind that pays the bills. Sometimes the task in hand covers both bases, but not often. This tense duality will always play center stage. It will never be transcended."

I'm six months into my freelance writing and editing career, meant to replace the income from the software job I left last fall. Up to this point, I've been more entranced by writing fiction and blogging, and haven't put much effort into finding paid work. Not surprising, then, that the contracts haven't come pouring in. So now I have to redress the balance of sex and cash, because being totally broke is not good for my art or my family.

Anyone need a good technical editor?

Profile: Jim Munroe

I recently stumbled on novelist Jim Munroe's DIY publishing empire, No Media Kings. After a brief foray into traditional publishing with his first book from HaperCollins, Flyboy Action Figure Comes With Gasmask, Munroe found he could make more doing the publishing, promotion, and sales himself. Talented guy.

Metro Toronto has a great introductory profile on Munroe, which gives you a quick rundown on his history. Then dig around No Media Kings to read about how he wrote his first novel in 21 weeks (you can now download the e-book version for free), what it was like to publish with HarperCollins, and a budget breakdown of his revenue and expenses for his self-published novel Angry Young Spaceman.

What I find really inspiring about Munroe's story is how he questioned the conventional wisdom about how authors are supposed to make money, and capitalized on his own experience in zine publishing and self-promotion to find new ways to support himself by writing.

Do What You Love, the Money Will Follow

Four months ago, I quit my well-paying job at a software company so that I could freelance part-time and have more time for writing. Marsha Sinetar's book Do What You Love, the Money Will Follow was a significant factor in helping me make that decision.

I knew that editing technical manuals was not my "right livelihood". I enjoyed the work at times, but it was not meaningful to me in the way that my fiction writing is. However, I had bought in to the idea that writing would always be a sideline, while I spent the bulk of my working life making as much money as I could. Maybe when I had saved enough, or could support myself with fiction writing, then I could quit my day job.

I started to question that assumption when I came across Sinetar's book. She writes:

Most of us think about our jobs or our careers as a means to fulfill responsibilities to families and creditors, to gain more material comforts, and to achieve status and recognition. But we pay a high price for this kind of thinking. A large percentage of America's working population do not enjoy the work they do! This is a profoundly tragic statistic considering that work consumes so much of our lives. In a few brief decades, our working life adds up to be life itself.

Such a nose-to-the-grindstone attitude is not even a good formula for success. When you study people who are successful, as I have over the years, it is abundantly clear that their achievements are directly related to the enjoyment they derive from their work. They enjoy it in large part because they are good at it.

Quitting wasn't easy. I needed four months to make the decision and give my notice. And so far, the money has been a bit slow in following. But unless I take this risk and make the investment now, I'll never have the time and energy to create a writing career.