Love your house parties Ben. And I’ll be showing up for them whether they’re in crowded mansions or blanket forts.
And I’ll add…brilliant daughter of yours! I was a vendor at a market last weekend and I’ll admit, my favorite moments aren’t the sales but the people who take a few moments to simply ask about what I’m selling, show genuine curiosity, and make that human connection.
Just reading the comments here fills me with a sense of peace and wonder. What if the creative life of the artist isn’t meant to be a “full-time job”? Maybe we all need that tension of having to feed the children, to temper our art. To hone the messages that have chosen us to come through.
It is a wonderful community we have going here. I agree there’s something about having to choose to make art above and beyond the constraints of earning a living that makes it special.
I do not manage/temper your expectations for my art. Every single time, I go through the same cycle: this is a great idea! This is really hard to write! No, this is really easy to write, which is a shame because I'm pretty sure it's the worst thing I've ever written! Oh god, it's actually really good, I'm really good at this! Why isn't it selling! Maybe if I get another great idea that will be the one that changes everything!
I have experienced a few moments of feeling successful. They would be: having my first bestseller; having a month where I sold 4x as much as I ever had before; seeing a book I ghostwrote being promoted as a top audiobook alongside Colleen Hoover and other such known names. However, each time, the results never really led on to anything else, and the joy faded, and the despair resumed.
But I've never given up on it. I never will. I might give up on selling it, or I might give up on publishing books publicly at all, or I might give up on serialising, or I might give up on Substack. But writing? No, never. I don't think I know how to stop.
Hi Rhiannon, sounds like we are peas in a pod. You saw the graph of my anxiety while writing Departures! It sounds like you’ve had a bit of a roller coaster ride. I don’t know for sure because I’ve never been truly successful in a commercial sense but I have a sneaking suspicion that when it does come to you it doesn’t materially change your happiness. If you have truly love the work you’re doing. Thanks so much for sharing your story and for being such a supportive reader.
Hi Ben, I'm typically late to the party but wouldn't miss one of yours for the world!
As a person who doesn't consider herself an artist of any kind; I just write what I see and take photos to share with people, I do this when I can, because I can, because I consider myself so very fortunate to live where I do and have that ability that to not share would amount to something akin to a crime, as such I am not certain I qualify to answer your questions, but I will say this... If you have a passion - and you do - that blazes like a fire, let it roar, let it warm whoever passes by because many will benefit and come back for more. And remember, when the fire dies, it is those warm, glowing embers that kindle the new flame.
Keep writing my friend, the frustrations of waiting for the fire to blaze again may feel torturously slow but a good fire takes not only the right fuel but time too...
I will wait to be warmed by your words no matter how long it takes!
Hi Susie, you are absolutely 100% an artist. The way you write about your place on the hill is infused with so much feeling. It’s not just observation but presence. I’m not terribly worried about not having more left to write about, it’s mostly just the time to do it. I get greedy!
You throw the best house parties! I’m so glad I managed to show up uninvited and (eventually) mingle as if I belong. First party, I peeked in the windows longingly. Second party, I sat on the sofa and talked to one person like the whole time. Finally gave myself permission to go full-on superfan. I didn’t want to leave the party and, remember? You had to politely usher me and a few others out as the sun was rising.
I agree with everything in your essay except “the world isn’t clamoring for another Wakeman novel.” Uh, YEAH. It IS. I is.
Those are great questions. I’m going to journal them this morning. If anything emerges, I’ll report back. Quick answers: I don’t. I haven’t. And, yes and I have no clue. 🫥
Ah Ben, I feel this all the way through to my bones. My heart yearns to spend as much time as I can creating art, drawing, writing, making things, and fervently desired those things to be enough to pay the bills. But when I was a full time illustrator for a brief spell, I found that creating for others was not the magic of creating for myself, and slowly lost its sparkle in the face of capitalism. I still have hope, I still dream, but I know that putting pressure on my creativity to pay the bills, is a sure way to kill it.
I’ve never really done my art for hire so I can’t speak to that but I can see how it could steal some of the magic. I think there are so many ways to be an artist. I admire people who view it like any trade and can work at it like a job. I also admire those who do it completely by feel and instinct, and only when they’re moved. I’m glad you are still pursuing it, that equilibrium we’re all searching for. Thanks for sharing a piece of your story.
This is loaded for me. I’ve been that art vendor who gambled on bronze and stone at the end of my corporate work week. I could never afford my art, but it brought me joy I couldn’t get anywhere else. I produced about 20 pieces, sold less than a dozen. I spend a lot of time connecting with people who didn’t buy, but that was worth every penny I spent, every anxious hour hoping to sell so that i could produce the next piece. Stopping was painful, but it moved me to where I am, which is where I need to be. Patience & Will ended up being my personal favorite, my signature piece. And it has lead me in a way to writing this novel I’m working on now. I see you. This art, all of it, is worth doing. It feeds souls and connects us all.
Wow, I can see how this particular piece did resonate with you, Shannon. The cost of materials to be that kind of artist is no joke. It sounds like you went through a bit of a transformation like I did. I think the instinct to make art never goes away. It just goes underground for a little while and pops up as a spring in some other place. Thank you so much for sharing your story and best of luck with your novel!
Hey Ben, what a torturous world creatives live in if they imagine they can adequately be paid for their time and earn an income as a CPA or a grocery store clerk does. We cannot.
Does that mean we should cease creating? I don’t think so. What creatives do is outside being quantified by dollars except thru what someone is willing to pay for an original or a copy.
Have you heard that goofy phrase that earth without art is eh? It’s a so what, a blah, robotic and flat. (Dare I say it is what ai creates)
What if the new challenge being handed to us is to figure out how to evaluate whether or not our time was worth the investment? Or have we truly made something that’s unique, have we changed someone’s mind, have we created a new theory, shifted a paradigm? Expressed a way of seeing the monumental beauty in the mundane? Have we enjoyed the journey? Did we feel alive in the creation?
Yes, we all still must “feed the children” (thank you Oriah Mountain Dreamer) and ourselves. I don’t know of any artists who live for free.
Yet would it be possible to lift the deadlines, erase all time constraints, create only for the joy of it and do the “tah-dah! When we were ready?
And in the meantime, tell stories of the world you see. Your mind works in fabulous ways. Talk about what you are doing physically during your day, is there a tree you give a little pat to when you walk by every morning? You know…. The things that make you YOU.
(I’ve babbled on enough now…. I totally accept if you just want to shake your head and tell me I live in a dream world….)
You do live in a dreamworld, Tey, but it's a beautiful dream! I agree there are so many more ways to live than one where we're constantly forced to measure our achievement. And yes, I do touch a tree every morning when I walk. What you describe is the counter-balance to all this grasping I've written about in this series is trying to slow down and notice everything that goes unnoticed, unmeasured. There is so much beauty in the world and so much to be grateful for. Thanks for being here and for sharing dream.
I Love that you touch a tree everyday on your walk… that image just popped into my mind’s eye while I was writing my answer.
Please write about yourself more, short essays, like what it means to touch a tree, and do you give it a little thank you, or a bit of encouragement?
Do you have coworkers? Do you tell stories about them in your mind?
Short essays will certainly keep your readers hooked in to your gut of writing while your next book percolates along 🤗. (Glad you like my dream world!)
How do you manage/temper your expectations for your art?
Of course you know this, but "expectation" is always a fraught position to work from. I try to take a step back from that and think of the step before: if my work is a "gift" - to myself, the muse, and the world - then there's not so much an expectation of a particular response as there is satisfaction in knowing I tried my best, and how the receivers react is an entirely different matter. Do we hope for glee and gratitude? Of course. But if they toss it aside, that's on them.
When have you really felt like a success with your art?
I consider myself a crashing success just for having completed two novels!
Did you ever give up on your art? If so, why?
One billion times, over 34 years when I couldn't finish a story to save my life. Every time I started something, the emotional resonance would seep away 30-50 pages in. It wasn't until I picked a subject that I could actually relate to (anxious gay boys becoming anxious gay men) that I was able to sustain the effort. Plus a lockdown. ;) But once I finished one, I finally knew I could do it, and THAT, at least, is no longer a concern. I can't write a novel? Yes. I can.
Thanks for starting the discussion, Ben - I'm scandalously behind on my reading, but will always circle back for you. 🩵
You have such a balanced perspective on expectation. I love that. I’m so happy that you’ve found your groove and have the confidence and joy to plunge into your work now head first. It’s inspiring to see how much you’ve opened up in the past two years. Here’s to many more!
In a way, we should be grateful for the feeling of conflict and uncertainty. That's because it means we are addressing who we are and trying to grow. Many/most people just have jobs. They go to work, earn a living, and them come home and have a life. When your work is an essential component of your life, it gets a whole lot trickier.
That’s very true. The conflict and friction we feel means it’s working. Art only comes from friction of some kind. Thanks for reading and commenting, Chip.
I am constantly battling this feeling that I have to validate my work by "making it" (whatever tf that means), while also knowing that I am not succeeding at that venture, economically speaking, at all. But also, I think I've stopped trying. I mean, I do work, a lot, but I don't try and "make it" by doing all the things--the social media posts, the gallery reps, the shows, etc. Because the thing that I know deep in my bones is that my work, and work for most artists out there, writers, musicians, really can't thrive in capitalism. There are lots of aspects of the human economy that actually just don't belong in that system--health care, child care (all caregiving?), the arts, teaching, even farming. Come to think of it, capitalism has destroyed just about everything because it demands that the cream goes off to the wealthy, instead of all of us getting to share it. I'm rambling now, but you have me wondering if a "connection economy" is actually the counterbalance to capitalism.
Thanks for sharing and rambling, Stephanie. I feel you. Capitalism is not a happy place for the artist and I find myself struggling with all the same things you called out here. Ultimately, I think connection is the essential currency for happiness even if you're not an artist. Money can't buy it. Keep doing what you do and sharing it.
Hey Ben, I love these raw thoughts -- very brave to write them, and then at the same time, so relatable. It's vulnerable but also a common feeling. I would love to catch one of your house parties! Time has not been on my side lately (not just time zone) and I'm sorry I've missed out on this last serialization of yours for the most part. But yeah, I think being so f-ing busy made me value even more the art I do create. It made me be SURE to have space for it in the future and also to value it in a different way. Some of the value you make is the art itself and some is the community, the connection - like you did in the Same Walk project. I like reading why other writers and artists create to see that even the "successful" (financially) ones grapple with many of the same questions. I like Zadie Smith's essay on this a lot - about making banana bread - about it being 'something to do' but then also reflecting on the way it connects with other people.
So yeah, I ihave a ton of nascent projects and I'm dying to have the real focus to get to them come July. But I'm also dying to get back on here more and really connect with other like-minded artists.
Hey Kate, no worries at all and certainly no need to apologize. We all have to protect what little time we have to focus on our own creative work. I have so little time these days outside of my day job that I have to be ruthless about what I can read/watch/listen to for entertainment. Thank you for taking the time to read this and share where you’re at. I’d love to do some light collaboration in the future, even if it’s just a Substack live conversation about process, etc. I’m also really fascinated by how other writers work.
Love your house parties Ben. And I’ll be showing up for them whether they’re in crowded mansions or blanket forts.
And I’ll add…brilliant daughter of yours! I was a vendor at a market last weekend and I’ll admit, my favorite moments aren’t the sales but the people who take a few moments to simply ask about what I’m selling, show genuine curiosity, and make that human connection.
Thank you, friend. It’s not truly a party until you show up! I was very proud of my daughter in that moment.
Just reading the comments here fills me with a sense of peace and wonder. What if the creative life of the artist isn’t meant to be a “full-time job”? Maybe we all need that tension of having to feed the children, to temper our art. To hone the messages that have chosen us to come through.
It is a wonderful community we have going here. I agree there’s something about having to choose to make art above and beyond the constraints of earning a living that makes it special.
Alright, let me get stuck in...
I do not manage/temper your expectations for my art. Every single time, I go through the same cycle: this is a great idea! This is really hard to write! No, this is really easy to write, which is a shame because I'm pretty sure it's the worst thing I've ever written! Oh god, it's actually really good, I'm really good at this! Why isn't it selling! Maybe if I get another great idea that will be the one that changes everything!
I have experienced a few moments of feeling successful. They would be: having my first bestseller; having a month where I sold 4x as much as I ever had before; seeing a book I ghostwrote being promoted as a top audiobook alongside Colleen Hoover and other such known names. However, each time, the results never really led on to anything else, and the joy faded, and the despair resumed.
But I've never given up on it. I never will. I might give up on selling it, or I might give up on publishing books publicly at all, or I might give up on serialising, or I might give up on Substack. But writing? No, never. I don't think I know how to stop.
Hi Rhiannon, sounds like we are peas in a pod. You saw the graph of my anxiety while writing Departures! It sounds like you’ve had a bit of a roller coaster ride. I don’t know for sure because I’ve never been truly successful in a commercial sense but I have a sneaking suspicion that when it does come to you it doesn’t materially change your happiness. If you have truly love the work you’re doing. Thanks so much for sharing your story and for being such a supportive reader.
You're quite right - the despair isn't a constant companion, because in between those moments, I still get to write! and that's everything.
We must conjure a foundation which doesn't dip down into despair. But how? What should we name it?
Hi Ben, I'm typically late to the party but wouldn't miss one of yours for the world!
As a person who doesn't consider herself an artist of any kind; I just write what I see and take photos to share with people, I do this when I can, because I can, because I consider myself so very fortunate to live where I do and have that ability that to not share would amount to something akin to a crime, as such I am not certain I qualify to answer your questions, but I will say this... If you have a passion - and you do - that blazes like a fire, let it roar, let it warm whoever passes by because many will benefit and come back for more. And remember, when the fire dies, it is those warm, glowing embers that kindle the new flame.
Keep writing my friend, the frustrations of waiting for the fire to blaze again may feel torturously slow but a good fire takes not only the right fuel but time too...
I will wait to be warmed by your words no matter how long it takes!
Hi Susie, you are absolutely 100% an artist. The way you write about your place on the hill is infused with so much feeling. It’s not just observation but presence. I’m not terribly worried about not having more left to write about, it’s mostly just the time to do it. I get greedy!
You throw the best house parties! I’m so glad I managed to show up uninvited and (eventually) mingle as if I belong. First party, I peeked in the windows longingly. Second party, I sat on the sofa and talked to one person like the whole time. Finally gave myself permission to go full-on superfan. I didn’t want to leave the party and, remember? You had to politely usher me and a few others out as the sun was rising.
I agree with everything in your essay except “the world isn’t clamoring for another Wakeman novel.” Uh, YEAH. It IS. I is.
Those are great questions. I’m going to journal them this morning. If anything emerges, I’ll report back. Quick answers: I don’t. I haven’t. And, yes and I have no clue. 🫥
Thank you for showing up and always being such an amazing guest. Your comments on chapters kept me going many weeks when I struggled to keep going.
Ah Ben, I feel this all the way through to my bones. My heart yearns to spend as much time as I can creating art, drawing, writing, making things, and fervently desired those things to be enough to pay the bills. But when I was a full time illustrator for a brief spell, I found that creating for others was not the magic of creating for myself, and slowly lost its sparkle in the face of capitalism. I still have hope, I still dream, but I know that putting pressure on my creativity to pay the bills, is a sure way to kill it.
I’ve never really done my art for hire so I can’t speak to that but I can see how it could steal some of the magic. I think there are so many ways to be an artist. I admire people who view it like any trade and can work at it like a job. I also admire those who do it completely by feel and instinct, and only when they’re moved. I’m glad you are still pursuing it, that equilibrium we’re all searching for. Thanks for sharing a piece of your story.
This is loaded for me. I’ve been that art vendor who gambled on bronze and stone at the end of my corporate work week. I could never afford my art, but it brought me joy I couldn’t get anywhere else. I produced about 20 pieces, sold less than a dozen. I spend a lot of time connecting with people who didn’t buy, but that was worth every penny I spent, every anxious hour hoping to sell so that i could produce the next piece. Stopping was painful, but it moved me to where I am, which is where I need to be. Patience & Will ended up being my personal favorite, my signature piece. And it has lead me in a way to writing this novel I’m working on now. I see you. This art, all of it, is worth doing. It feeds souls and connects us all.
Wow, I can see how this particular piece did resonate with you, Shannon. The cost of materials to be that kind of artist is no joke. It sounds like you went through a bit of a transformation like I did. I think the instinct to make art never goes away. It just goes underground for a little while and pops up as a spring in some other place. Thank you so much for sharing your story and best of luck with your novel!
Hey Ben, what a torturous world creatives live in if they imagine they can adequately be paid for their time and earn an income as a CPA or a grocery store clerk does. We cannot.
Does that mean we should cease creating? I don’t think so. What creatives do is outside being quantified by dollars except thru what someone is willing to pay for an original or a copy.
Have you heard that goofy phrase that earth without art is eh? It’s a so what, a blah, robotic and flat. (Dare I say it is what ai creates)
What if the new challenge being handed to us is to figure out how to evaluate whether or not our time was worth the investment? Or have we truly made something that’s unique, have we changed someone’s mind, have we created a new theory, shifted a paradigm? Expressed a way of seeing the monumental beauty in the mundane? Have we enjoyed the journey? Did we feel alive in the creation?
Yes, we all still must “feed the children” (thank you Oriah Mountain Dreamer) and ourselves. I don’t know of any artists who live for free.
Yet would it be possible to lift the deadlines, erase all time constraints, create only for the joy of it and do the “tah-dah! When we were ready?
And in the meantime, tell stories of the world you see. Your mind works in fabulous ways. Talk about what you are doing physically during your day, is there a tree you give a little pat to when you walk by every morning? You know…. The things that make you YOU.
(I’ve babbled on enough now…. I totally accept if you just want to shake your head and tell me I live in a dream world….)
You do live in a dreamworld, Tey, but it's a beautiful dream! I agree there are so many more ways to live than one where we're constantly forced to measure our achievement. And yes, I do touch a tree every morning when I walk. What you describe is the counter-balance to all this grasping I've written about in this series is trying to slow down and notice everything that goes unnoticed, unmeasured. There is so much beauty in the world and so much to be grateful for. Thanks for being here and for sharing dream.
I Love that you touch a tree everyday on your walk… that image just popped into my mind’s eye while I was writing my answer.
Please write about yourself more, short essays, like what it means to touch a tree, and do you give it a little thank you, or a bit of encouragement?
Do you have coworkers? Do you tell stories about them in your mind?
Short essays will certainly keep your readers hooked in to your gut of writing while your next book percolates along 🤗. (Glad you like my dream world!)
I may just do that. We’ll see. I can take myself in small doses. ;-)
How do you manage/temper your expectations for your art?
Of course you know this, but "expectation" is always a fraught position to work from. I try to take a step back from that and think of the step before: if my work is a "gift" - to myself, the muse, and the world - then there's not so much an expectation of a particular response as there is satisfaction in knowing I tried my best, and how the receivers react is an entirely different matter. Do we hope for glee and gratitude? Of course. But if they toss it aside, that's on them.
When have you really felt like a success with your art?
I consider myself a crashing success just for having completed two novels!
Did you ever give up on your art? If so, why?
One billion times, over 34 years when I couldn't finish a story to save my life. Every time I started something, the emotional resonance would seep away 30-50 pages in. It wasn't until I picked a subject that I could actually relate to (anxious gay boys becoming anxious gay men) that I was able to sustain the effort. Plus a lockdown. ;) But once I finished one, I finally knew I could do it, and THAT, at least, is no longer a concern. I can't write a novel? Yes. I can.
Thanks for starting the discussion, Ben - I'm scandalously behind on my reading, but will always circle back for you. 🩵
You have such a balanced perspective on expectation. I love that. I’m so happy that you’ve found your groove and have the confidence and joy to plunge into your work now head first. It’s inspiring to see how much you’ve opened up in the past two years. Here’s to many more!
Yes - we're just getting started.
In a way, we should be grateful for the feeling of conflict and uncertainty. That's because it means we are addressing who we are and trying to grow. Many/most people just have jobs. They go to work, earn a living, and them come home and have a life. When your work is an essential component of your life, it gets a whole lot trickier.
That’s very true. The conflict and friction we feel means it’s working. Art only comes from friction of some kind. Thanks for reading and commenting, Chip.
I am constantly battling this feeling that I have to validate my work by "making it" (whatever tf that means), while also knowing that I am not succeeding at that venture, economically speaking, at all. But also, I think I've stopped trying. I mean, I do work, a lot, but I don't try and "make it" by doing all the things--the social media posts, the gallery reps, the shows, etc. Because the thing that I know deep in my bones is that my work, and work for most artists out there, writers, musicians, really can't thrive in capitalism. There are lots of aspects of the human economy that actually just don't belong in that system--health care, child care (all caregiving?), the arts, teaching, even farming. Come to think of it, capitalism has destroyed just about everything because it demands that the cream goes off to the wealthy, instead of all of us getting to share it. I'm rambling now, but you have me wondering if a "connection economy" is actually the counterbalance to capitalism.
Thanks for sharing and rambling, Stephanie. I feel you. Capitalism is not a happy place for the artist and I find myself struggling with all the same things you called out here. Ultimately, I think connection is the essential currency for happiness even if you're not an artist. Money can't buy it. Keep doing what you do and sharing it.
Hey Ben, I love these raw thoughts -- very brave to write them, and then at the same time, so relatable. It's vulnerable but also a common feeling. I would love to catch one of your house parties! Time has not been on my side lately (not just time zone) and I'm sorry I've missed out on this last serialization of yours for the most part. But yeah, I think being so f-ing busy made me value even more the art I do create. It made me be SURE to have space for it in the future and also to value it in a different way. Some of the value you make is the art itself and some is the community, the connection - like you did in the Same Walk project. I like reading why other writers and artists create to see that even the "successful" (financially) ones grapple with many of the same questions. I like Zadie Smith's essay on this a lot - about making banana bread - about it being 'something to do' but then also reflecting on the way it connects with other people.
So yeah, I ihave a ton of nascent projects and I'm dying to have the real focus to get to them come July. But I'm also dying to get back on here more and really connect with other like-minded artists.
Thanks for your thoughts, Ben!
Hey Kate, no worries at all and certainly no need to apologize. We all have to protect what little time we have to focus on our own creative work. I have so little time these days outside of my day job that I have to be ruthless about what I can read/watch/listen to for entertainment. Thank you for taking the time to read this and share where you’re at. I’d love to do some light collaboration in the future, even if it’s just a Substack live conversation about process, etc. I’m also really fascinated by how other writers work.
I would also love to collaborate, Ben! I’ll have a lot more time & head space in a couple of months. Let’s do it 😁