In Defense of Keeping Your Day Job

I first thought of writing this post in the summer of last year, after a podcast interview with a writer I’d heard nothing but good things about left me gnashing my teeth in frustration. I thought of writing it again in the fall, after a few separate conversations with mutual friends led to some much-needed venting about how it’s both incredibly hard and incredibly normal to work a full-time job and pursue a writing career. And I continued to think about writing it every time I saw some well-meaning but clueless person on Twitter go viral for preaching the importance of “following your dreams” and “living your passion” and “putting your art first” no matter what.

Then, a whole bunch of authors whose work and attitudes I respect and whose careers I hope to emulate began sharing their own struggles with juggling writing and work, with the unpleasant financial realities of making a living off your creativity, and with the ways in which “success”–at least in the form of fame or recognition–often doesn’t mean making the kind of money you’d expect. I have no idea what brought these conversations to the forefront, but this was the way I felt reading their posts:

In my corner of publishing Twitter, there have been more and more frequent conversations about how much inherent privilege factors into creative success, how the traditional publishing model still overwhelmingly favors upper middle and upper class (often white) folks, and how increasingly difficult it has become to write full-time without costing yourself some financial stability. I’m grateful for these conversations, and I think it’s more important than ever that we continue to have them.

Especially since the pervasive idea that creative success is dependent upon throwing stability (and common sense) to the wind still lingers on.

There are so many people who talk a great game about how prioritizing your art above all else is the key to building a productive career, and I don’t entirely disagree. If your writing is constantly being side-lined for less important things, it’s going to be hard to find the time to do the work, improve the work, and turn your passion into a profession. There definitely needs to be a balance, and finding that balance is an ongoing struggle for most of us creative types.

What drives me nuts, though, is how often those same people equate “prioritizing your art” with “quitting your job so you can wholly embrace the starving artist mentality, because meaningless work does nothing but staunch your creativity, and who cares if you need the money to, I don’t know . . . live?”

Look. I’d like nothing more than to be able to write full-time, earn a comfortable income, and not worry about keeping a side job. That, more than anything else, is my professional end game. But for most of us it’s also highly uncommon, highly unlikely from an earnings standpoint, and frequently dependent upon factors beyond our creative success.

If you have:

1) A spouse or significant other whose income can support you

2) A familial safety net in the form of parents you can move back in with or receive financial help from in an emergency

3) A hefty savings account from the career job you’ve worked for years and/or no debt of any kind

4) No fears about losing your insurance coverage (usually because of said spouse)

5) No children or family members who depend on your salary or your insurance benefits

6) The kind of good health that allows you to spend minimally on health insurance or go without altogether

7) Absolutely no concerns about needing money you may or may not have at any point down the road for any reason because you have some other financial safety net that I haven’t thought of

. . . then you’re already in a far more privileged position than most of the population of the United States. And if you decide to give the whole full-time writing thing a chance, you’re also in a much better position to do so without bankrupting yourself or significantly sacrificing your quality of life.

This is why it bothers me so freaking much when those who’ve either achieved some creative success or who embody that starving artist life climb up on their high horses and talk down to the rest of us. You can preach all you want about how much more creative you are because you don’t work full-time, or insist that you could “never” hold down an office/food service/retail job for whatever silly, unrealistic reasons pop into your mind. But if you aren’t actively considering the privileges you have that make your choices possible–because most everyone in this camp has a few–you just sound like an ignorant ass.

Living your passion has nothing to do with whether or not you work forty hour weeks. Following your dreams often necessitates having a stable financial base from which to build those dreams upon. Or, alternatively, having so little left to lose that “following your dreams” looks less risky than whatever other choices you might have. Whether or not you juggle full-time work and creative work has little to no bearing on whether you’ll become successful or not.

Even if you are one of the privileged few, the kind of person who can check one or more boxes on that list, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with relying on the security of a steady paycheck and the freedom that affords you. Maybe it’s not the freedom to write full-time or work from home or quit your crappy job on a whim, but if you aren’t worried about paying your bills at the end of the month or dealing with debt or being totally hamstrung by a personal emergency, you’re still better off than most.

My husband and I could move in with my parents if it came to that. My parents could lend us money if it came to that. I have money in savings, I’m debt free, and I could get on my husband’s insurance if I lost my job unexpectedly. But we couldn’t pay bills, travel, or maintain the kind of frugal yet comfortable lifestyle we have without my income unless we wanted to bleed those savings dry, which we don’t.

That means I’ll continue to work for the time being. I’ll continue to fit my writing in around my day job, the way so many of us do. I’ll continue to work toward and fight for my various authorial dreams, even if my 9-5 leaves me less time than I’d like to pursue them. I’ll embrace my own stubborn persistence and keep pushing forward, the same way I’ve always done whether I’ve worked full-time or not.

I’ll live my passion and appreciate the regular paychecks that make my pursuit of that passion possible. And I’ll do my best to support and encourage all the other writers out there who are busy doing the same.

How does your day job enable or hinder your creative pursuits? What factors keep you from quitting your job to make art full-time? And if you are a full-time writer, artist, or creative, what milestones did you need to reach before you felt comfortable leaving your day job behind? Let me know in the comments!