So, apparently artists aren’t supposed to make money. Making money is bad. This mind-boggling concept, to me at least, has recently caught my eye as I roam the internets. Caught my eye and hit me over the head with a sledge hammer. Apparently, you can’t be both a entrepreneur and an artist. You can’t pay a mortgage and be an artist. If you make money, you’re not an artist. You’re bad people. The money thing and the art thing are two separate things and never the twain shall meet.
This is a bunch of horse hooey.
I love, love, love, being able to make a living at what I do. Being a working artist. I love paying the mortgage by writing plays. Love it. I am proud of what I do. Proud of what I write. As far as I’m concerned the business aspects and the creative aspects of being an artist walk hand in hand. They need each other. They don’t do well on their own. They certainly don’t use the same part of my brain, and I can’t do them at the same time. But they co-exist. I like having them both around. So why is it wrong? Why would some consider that a sell out?
Selling out, is when you are actively engage in crap, you know it’s crap, but the money is worth more than the stigma of crap. I’ve written for money twice. Both twice turned out to be disasters of such huge portions, I still get the shakes when I think about them. There’s a difference between selling out and making a living.
But then again, I’ve never been one of those artsy-fartsy, quirky, off with the fairies, living in my own world kind of writers. There’s no ‘whoo whoo wicka’ in me. I’m practical. And it makes practical sense to me that if writing plays, that I’m proud of, pays the mortgage, then I should pay the mortgage writing plays.
I’m gonna go do that, m’kay?