Outside, looking in…
I’ve been a bit distracted by the Amazon-Hachette foofaraw, just like everyone else. More as an amused spectator, I suppose, but I thought I’d finish my more personal take on the subject today—well, at least a related subject, the discussion about whether a creative person should also be an astute business person. PR and marketing people, ready to take that creative person’s money, come down on one side of this question obviously. Ignoring them and their agendas, let’s still take a look at the issue.
Artists, musicians, and writers—if not complete misanthropes, we’re often introverted and avoid other human beings. We’re standing outside a window looking into that big house that contains the rest of humanity. Is it any wonder most of us aren’t good business people? Do we need to break the window pane, avoid the shards of glass, and become something of a self-taught MBA to succeed? These are tough questions.
I’ve mentioned James Patterson in recent posts. If anything, you have to admire this author’s business acumen. He’s an exception among writers. He’s like the painter Thomas Kincaid, who never could be called a starving artist. Or Neil Diamond, a performer in his own right, but also the composer of an incredible number of hits made popular by many other famous singers. All exceptions. Many creative people might want to be better business people but are just bad at it. I’m in the latter group. I’m addicted to writing and entertaining my readers. I don’t want to spend time in PR and marketing, let alone the money.
Is good business acumen a necessity for an artist in today’s world? I can speak to two of the areas above as examples. My father painted an incredible number of still lifes and landscapes. He even won a few prizes at local shows. Did he make much money doing it? No, but he had to paint. He had waited all his life to paint. When he finally had more free time, his production rate became awesome. He always wanted to be an artist and couldn’t imagine living without painting.
I have none of my father’s painting skills. I’ve done a few mediocre landscapes, but my shtick is writing. I always wanted to be a writer. Even with a moderately successful scientific career in academia and R&D, I lived the life of a writer, creating my lists of what-ifs, jotting down plot ideas, sketching out scenes and characters, collecting interesting words—you get the idea. When my wife and I became empty nesters, I started to have more time to write. Like my father before me, my production rate exploded. I can’t imagine life without writing, but I can’t say I’m becoming rich doing it.
I suppose both Patterson and Kincaid would say that’s my fault. Creative people should know more about the business end of our creative activities, they’d say, namely how to create a market demand and then fill that demand. I’d say that’s enough BS to fertilize the complete state of Texas. The reason is that, no matter what your creative skills might be, intrinsic or learned, they’re only necessary conditions for success in the artistic world. Readers of this blog know that I’ve said this before: there aren’t any sufficient conditions! There’s absolutely nothing you can do to guarantee your success as an artist, musician, or writer. Many people make money telling you there are—in fact, they will charge you big bucks to tell you this—but you’re delusional if you think that’s true.
If you’ve heard this for the first time and it shocks you to your core, I’m sorry. Life is not fair, never was, never will be. There are many good, undiscovered artists, and many of them die, undiscovered. There are probably great ones too. They’re undiscovered not because they lack skills. Many meet all the necessary conditions, but aren’t lucky enough to “be discovered.” Note that I said “meet all the necessary conditions.” Not meeting them can make that discovery less likely, I suppose, but there are plenty of cases where necessary conditions weren’t met and the person was still successful. Fortunately, one necessary condition is easy to satisfy—keep painting or writing that novel or music! Finish one piece or book and go on to the next—you love to do it anyway, so keep going. Do the next one!
Of course, the gotcha is that to keep creating you need to invest in your creative process. Not just your time, but also your money, because paints, ebooks, and musical instruments aren’t paid for by donations to some starving artists’ fund. Even if you have a painting or musical piece on commission or you’re enjoying a juicy publishing contract, you’re going to need to invest in your product. That’s the conundrum we all face as artists. And, of course, you have to invest your time.
It’s frustrating, but the analogy with the lottery is a good one. You have to pay to play, and you can only win something if you play. I suppose the chance of being a success as an author is fast decreasing to that of winning Power Ball or Mega Millions—today anyone can release a book if they can write one. Not everyone can write one, of course. Not everyone can paint a landscape or still life either. But the numbers of new authors and new books every year are daunting for anyone entering the field. You can usually increase your chances by fulfilling those necessary conditions.
Some would argue that you don’t even need to fulfill the necessary conditions. The Fifty Shades trilogy is a prime example where Lady Luck shined down on an author without many skills. Even verbose J. K. Rowling was lucky with Harry Potter—the lack of success with her mystery novel until it was leaked that the author was really J. K. Rowling proves that, at least for me. Both these authors won the lottery because they were at the right place and right time. This happens in all creative endeavors. Even in the scientific arena, how many Nobels correspond to a scientist being at the right place at the right time? Serendipity is just another name for luck.
I don’t begrudge people the lucky success they have in their artistic endeavors. My father never did either. Good for them, he’d say, and I echo the sentiment. I’m not completely happy for James Patterson because he’s trying to throw his weight around rather than just enjoying the great luck he’s enjoyed in life. I’m sorry for him. He’s lost that joy of creation. That and the idea that I can entertain a few people along the way are my most important motivating factors. When all is said and done, I’ll measure my success by how happy I’ve been creating and how many I’ve entertained with my creations. Of course, I’ll also value the friendships I’ve made with fellow writers, readers, and collaborators during this strange journey….
In libris libertas….
