The life of an artist is often a complex tapestry woven with passion, struggle, and creativity. Should we envy their ability to express the inexpressible, or pity the challenges they face in a world that often misunderstands them?
I don't know whether I should be envied or pitied. As a writer who makes her living by the clever use of words, allow me to describe for you the life of an artist. On the plus side, I can confidently assert that I enjoy freedoms that other working stiffs do not. There is no alarm to get up by, but that is because I work 10-14 hour days and obtain 4-6 hours of sleep maximum, so I wake at unreliable times. I do not have a boss (big plus), and I make my own deadlines. I work everyday, but leisurely, and I can work in my pajamas if that is what will inspire me. To people slaving in a corporate mill, this arrangement may sound like heaven, and it is—until payday! You see, my books compete with 1.12 BILLION others online. Let me put that number in perspective. In the marketplace, every widget faces competition. There may be a dozen knock-offs for sale, but odds are that your widget will at least show in the searches. Already I am sure you can see the dilemma that authors face: selling your book in a crowd of 1.12 billion other books.
I have always said that writing is not a career choice. Writing chooses you, for it is suicidal insanity to pick a literary vocation in which you labor for years in solitude, without pay, while agonizing over your writing and feeling inadequate, worrying how you will market it, only to finally publish it with little fanfare, throwing your masterpiece into what feels like a black hole. Even if you have composed the most extraordinary story ever told, how will you distinguish your creation amidst billions of others? Will you hire a marketing professional, or would you prefer to handle that time-consuming task yourself? If you're both an author and a marketer (as most are), when will you have time to write your next book?? For without new products, the royalties dry up. So, while you may have daydreamed about living the life of a carefree creative, the hard truth is that you had better get used to living on a budget. You may be thinking, "Don't best-selling authors live high on the hog, rolling in fat royalty checks that last for years to come?" If your book makes it to Amazon's top 100 list, you have done a near-miraculous, head-turning thing. Because the odds of that are much greater than being struck by lightning (1 in 1,222,000 people), winning an Olympic gold medal (1 in 662,000 ), or being killed in a plane crash (1 in 11 million). I ask again: should you envy, or pity a writer? Envy me that I get to do what I love, but pity me because 1.12 billion other idiots are doing the same.
Life is full of trade-offs. Sometimes you cannot have the best of both worlds. In order to make a living as an artist, you may have to eat ramen instead of steak for dinner. Conversely, to enjoy the finer things in life (like groceries), you may have to endure a regular work schedule, and a boss. Each person must ask themselves what their priorities are. I do not mind living on a shoestring; I have gotten used to it. As long as I can live next to the sea and continue to grow as a writer, I will do just about anything. But I am not going to sugar-coat this for you: in order to write, you must think deeply. And in order to think profoundly, you will have to be alone. A lot. Ok, most of the time. And for most people, that kind of isolation is like a jail sentence. However, for us nerdy and introverted artisans, it's not a problem, but a privilege. This is because introverts would prefer to live in a shack by the sea, or a mountain cabin, or on the prairie with their chickens than deal with people. Introverts isolate because the quiet they crave is the most important commodity, and they cannot do without it. For them, silence equals peace, and stillness is tranquility, not boredom. This is because introverts recharge their batteries by being alone, whereas extroverts recharge their batteries by being with others. Therefore, introverts naturally turn towards the arts as easily as a flower turns towards the light of the sun. However, it is not wholly accurate to claim that all artists are introverts. No, indeed. I think of Salvador Dalí, the Spanish Surrealist whose avant-garde personality and handlebar mustache were as ostentatious and outrageous as his art. He was outgoing, vivacious, and a city-dweller. However, most artists can be fiercely withdrawn, depressed, or aloof. They do not mean to be; blame their artistic temperament, and their loved ones find it off-putting. For example, those who know me can usually tell when I have had enough socializing, which is halfway through the party. I get a far-away, dazed look when a kind-hearted acquaintance will rescue me by inquiring, "How is your book coming along?" which jerks me back to reality. It is an awkward question for a writer. I cannot blurt out the truth: TERRIBLE, because while it feels like it is going terribly (which is why I am at the party at all), it will eventually be a success, so I smile benignly and say, "Great!" Artists live in their heads, and there is so much going on up there that I just keep it simple.
I watched a dark comedy once titled "Welcome to Me." It's about a mentally ill and delusional narcissist who wins the lottery and uses her windfall to broadcast a talk show that she stars in. Her show gains a cult following because of its outlandishly weird host who becomes so obsessed with getting everything her way that she psychologically spins out of control and crashes. Have you ever noticed that lottery winners seldom have happy endings? "Welcome to Me" is the perfect title of the writer's existence. We are compelled to express ourselves to a world we don't know, and never will. We are so in need of an audience, or at least another person to understand us, that we write for strangers! If I could not write, if I were marooned on a desert island with no paper or computer, I would still find a way. I would scratch messages into the bark of a tree, or write in the sand, but I guarantee you, I'd keep writing. That is because in childhood I discovered that writing was as second nature to me as breathing, and without it I am only half alive. But writing is more than art; it is an act of rebellion. It is rebellious because nobody tells you what to think. No politician, no teacher, and no partner can control what makes it into your next book. And writing is a form of intrapersonal communication—meaning that artists communicate best by analyzing what is going on in their private worlds. Intrapersonal communicators are 100% "Welcome to Me." And while it can get lonely, the alternative is to become an extrovert, and that thought scares the hell out of me. Jumping from one social activity to the next, attending nonstop gatherings, and talking incessantly on the phone—these are nightmare scenarios for the true homebody who longs to end the night early in her fuzzy pajamas while cradling a cup of herbal tea and reading (or better yet, curled up writing in her journal). The alternative to being the way I am is being someone else, and I am not prepared to make those kinds of changes at this late date.
Philosophers and artists are cut from similar cloth; they are like cousins. Both are full of existential ponderings, but they arrive at their conclusions by different means. The philosopher examines philosophic theories and tears them apart, much as a car mechanic rebuilds an engine, one system at a time. Likewise, a fictional novelist presents life from different angles, employing characters and the storyline, while the non-fictional writer analyzes their subject matter with a particular goal in mind. The philosopher may appear in public to defend their position, while the author gives a public reading. Philosophers become writers out of necessity. If an artist does not spend time contemplating existence, their representation of life will be shallow, confined to painting landscapes and fruit bowls. Not that there is anything wrong with these. But if the artist never goes any deeper than what the eye can see, if they are unable to interpret their subjects or to give birth to what their inner eye can see, then they are a painter, a sculptor, or a dancer, and not an artist. An artist interprets, gives meaning, and births chaos. They give the spark of life, which is why the Mona Lisa is the most widely recognized painting in the world. Da Vinci gave his subject that enigmatic smile, that spark of life—which is why he is remembered as an artist of the highest caliber and not merely a portrait painter. There is a philosopher in every artist and an artist in every philosopher.
To be a writer is not merely innate talent and artistic temperament; they also have a bohemian lifestyle, and a philosopher's curiosity. Another quality seldom discussed in writers' academic programs and writers' groups is the artist's penchant for self-sabotage. They will especially sabotage their relationships, and research has proven this. Why is this, and what can be done about it? First, let us further define what makes an artist:
1. Innate Talent—Artists are driven from within to practice their craft. They perform without being compelled to. They do it without direction, and without pay. They create for creation's sake. While this is self-efficacy at its finest, their free time is often monopolized by their art. An artist's partner finds themselves fighting for time and attention and may feel they are being breadcrumbed. Like the football widow, they may find themselves on the outside looking in.
2. Artistic Temperament—This is not just a cute label for wacky artists. Research by Kay Jamison, PhD, among others have shown that artists, and particularly writers, suffer more depression, mania, bipolar disorder, and suicidal ideation than other vocations. Science has attributed actual measurable qualities to artists, and these are a part of what makes them highly creative and intuitive. It can also make them challenging to be in relationship with. A creative person is wired differently. For one thing, artists possess a sensitivity to emotions, have heightened insight, and a keen sense of self-awareness that others don't possess. These extra qualities kindle their artistic flame. On the flipside, they can be the source of frustration when two different temperments live together.
3. Bohemian Lifestyle-Because artists make sacrifices to pursue thier art, finances can be impossibly tight. Partners may be asked to contribute more financially. Having ramen for dinner might not be some people's idea of a life worth living. If living simply and frugally bothers you, you might not be a good fit. They don't say, "starving artists" for nothing!
4. Philosophical Mindset-Like philosophers, artists will pick apart ideas and argue a point just for the fun of it. If you are the type that enjoys playing devil's advocate, or does not mind listening or is amused as your night out turns into a debate, then loving these wild minds will certainly keep you entertained! If you are the partner of an artist, at best you are in for an unforgettable adventure, and at worst you will question your sanity for choosing such a free thinker and a talented, if not troubled soul. Being a creative myself, my advice is to seriously consider what you want and need out of a relationship. What are your priorities? Ask yoursef: can you offer the support that this special person is going to need? If the answer is enthusiastically, YES! then move ahead with confidence. But if you are realizing that being with an artist will ask more of you than you can give, there is no shame in choosing something different for yourself. Not everyone is built to travel the artist's road with them.
I began by asking if you envied or pitied me. By now, you have looked more closely at some of the ups and downs of the life of an artist. I imagine the insight you have gained has been thought-provoking. You may be feeling less envy, and more "proceed with caution" about choosing "the road less traveled." And you may be feeling less pity and more admiration for the sacrifices that creatives are willing to make. The artistic lifestyle is not for the faint of heart. It is a choice that can weigh like a heavy burden at times. But when your project is complete-whether it is a book or a piece of art, you have birthed something. You have fashioned a book to hold in your hands, or a painting to hang on the wall. You have single-handedly brought a tangible product into the world which did not exist before, pulled from your imagination. How cool is that? Through inner vision, pain-staking efforts, and tender care, you produced a one-of-a-kind, never-before-seen relic that will live long after you are gone, emblazoned with your signiture. In that moment of exaltation and validation, no one will pity you. They will only see the miracle before them and declare it a thing of beauty. Perhaps they will even envy the artist you have become.
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