How to Survive the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Life of an Artist
How to Survive the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Life of an Artist
Twenty-five filmmakers, authors, and comic book writers from around the globe weigh in about how they endure the self-doubt and grueling anxieties of life in the arts
“The arts are not a way to make a living,” Kurt Vonnegut once said. “They are a very human way of making life more bearable.”
Fair enough, but I’m pretty sure the SLAUGHTERHOUSE-FIVE author was referring to Life with a capital L here. As in: life in general, for everyone, the whole kit and caboodle we call human civilization. But certainly not actual artists’ lives because the existences of most artists are financially brutal on their best days and emotionally crushing on their worst. You spend your time fueled as often by the calories provided by microwaved Ramen noodles as you do dreams of fame and fortune or, at least, relevance. Even in success, the challenges never truly diminish unless you’re, you know, Stephen King or J.J. Abrams.
The devastating reality is, most of us will never earn a substantial living from the arts. But it’s not as if that won’t stop anyone from pursuing their dreams all the same. The need to create, to express something deep inside us, to try to make sense of the world around us is ancient and unstoppable. That doesn’t mean you have to do it without any support, which is what this article is about.
Today, I want to share with you the first in a new series I’m going to publish once a month (or so) for at least the duration of 2024. Each installment will focus on a single subject inspired by questions from readers here at Substack and elsewhere. But instead of answering these questions myself, I’m going to turn to a rotating cast of brilliant artists I know, ranging from emerging artists to those working at the top of their game, to share with you their own experiences. Here at 5AM StoryTalk, I like to avoid instructive lessons. Instead, I think it’s better you learn by example. It’s up to you what you take from them and how you action them in your lives.
January’s question came to me from several readers and echo many similar questions I’ve received over the years from others at various earlier stages of their creative ambitions. I’ll distill it in the following way:
How do you keep on keeping on despite the stress of “not knowing”, professional uncertainty, and creative self-doubt? But also, how do you do so in the face of obstacles such as a nine-to-five job, family, mental health, and more that can make committing fully to your craft difficult in the 21st century?
Below, you will find the responses I received from twenty-five filmmakers, novelists, comic book writers/artists, video game designers, and children’s book authors/illustrators. In all cases, they are professional, working artists. In addition to the range of mediums they work in, they represent a diverse range of voices and cultural backgrounds from across the globe - including the United States, United Kingdom, France, Canada, Spain, Czech Republic, and Australia. Some are inspiring, some are pragmatic, some even a little cantankerous. Hopefully, their perspectives and experiences will be of some help to you wherever you are on your creative journey.
MEG LeFAUVE (screenwriter, INSIDE OUT)
First, this never goes away. This “not knowing,” this uncertainty. It is an element in the career of a writer (or any artist) no matter how “high” on the pole you get. I am lucky to earn a living as a writer and I appreciate that every day - but the uncertainty in getting the next job (and the amount of free work it takes to get that job) remains. You are only as good as your last project - in how well it did at the box office, how it was creatively received within the Hollywood community, and how you were to work with. The danger is that the fear of “not getting the next gig” can mean we choose projects to write that aren’t “me” — that I don’t have a core instinct about — and those are not only incredibly challenging to write but also often not successful.
But we need to earn a living so the questions/balance/challenge remains. It’s a constant check in with yourself - your needs and wants as a creative. And having a team to give input/insight (that can be an agent/manager or it can be creative friends - or both). I do understand and have lived the big challenge of writing while working another job and having a family (young children) and all while not yet earning money from the writing. I can only speak to what worked for me during this period. I’d like to be able to say I wrote every day and committed to a routine, as I do think that’s the ideal, but it wasn’t how I worked. I was only able to commit to the writing when I found the story that I wanted to tell — needed to tell — so much that it conquered the doubts and time issues I had. The story demanded my attention, the characters needed me - enough that I was willing to push. Willing to get notes and go again. The other way I sustained during this period was the support of friends. Friends who were there to read and encourage and friends who were willing to hold me to my commitment/deadlines. And friends (or pro help) that could help me navigate the personal transformation that happens when we are in our art - because to be a writer is to confront yourself and your blind spots.
Lastly, I’d say I just did it. It’s not an overly complex or glamorous solution, but it’s the base of it. Grit. Doing it when you don’t want to, when you don’t have time, putting the writing first, when you are full of doubt and when you think the writing is shit. Do it anyway - to get to the other side. I have this grit in me and saw it in action at Pixar. The stubborn steel it takes for artists to go through the chopper over and over. Artists are warriors.
Meg is a U.S.-based screenwriter and host of the podcast The Screenwriting Life. You can read my artist-on-artist interview with her here.
MARC GUGGENHEIM (creator/showrunner, “ARROW”)
Damn. What a great question. Honestly, I only ask myself this question every day. The truth is, there are actually several questions embedded in this one because — for me, at least — dealing with uncertainty is different than dealing with self-doubt. And that’s different than dealing with the distractions of family and/or work.
That being said, I’ll give you the super-general answer first which, hopefully, covers everything: Writers write because they have to. It’s a very real and very literal compulsion. In my particular case, I become (even more) agitated and frustrated if I go for more than a couple of days without writing. Everyone’s mileage varies, but writers need to write. And that need eclipses whatever self-doubt they feel. That need allows them to pretend for the time that they’re writing that there is no uncertainty, that it’s not possible that their work won’t be sold/viewed/appreciated. Writing is a very irrational act. We do it in spite of all the reasons not to.
As far as competing obligations and distractions are concerned, I’m probably the wrong person to ask. I started writing in my third year of law school and developed my craft over the course of four-plus years of practice. That’s eighty to ninety hour workweeks. If someone tells me that their job doesn’t afford them time to write on the side, I just zone out. You find the time. In my case — inspired by an interview I read with Ron Bass — I woke up at five every morning to write for two hours before heading into the office. You find a way.
Marc is a U.S.-based screenwriter, comic book writer, and novelist. I encourage you to subscribe to his Substack . You can read my artist-on-artist interview with him here.
KIM SHUMWAY (screenwriter/executive producer, "THE 100")
The uncertainty is relentless and unforgiving. I know twenty-year pros who worry about continuing to work. One of the tough realities of the business is you just never know. On the flipside…hey, you never know! I’ve had studios reach out years after a pitch because they remember it so fondly — a pitch they passed on! — and they still want to do something together. I have a friend whose feature was optioned by producer after producer, year after year, bouncing all over the place in seeming futility…and then someone actually made the movie. Another friend routinely gets called by his studio saying they want to find a way to make his long-dead pilot. He shrugs it off, but hey, you never know. Our world is one of paradox, where every project is simultaneously something and nothing. Even when a project becomes something, it can just as quickly turn to nothing. Uncertainty is the air we breathe in Hollywood. All writers have to find a way to reconcile themselves with that. I think it’s helpful to focus on the spark that inspires you to create. What’s the thing that gets you excited to write? What are you trying to say? Focus on that because that is quite literally the only thing you can control. Hopefully, it’s a source of joy and satisfaction, in and of itself.
Kim is a U.S.-based screenwriter.
JORDAN MECHNER (video game creator, PRINCE OF PERSIA)
I remind myself not to confuse the rewards that I imagine or hope will come (publication, acclaim, sales...) with the actual inherent reward of doing it. To spend years writing, drawing, or programming a work only makes sense if I truly enjoy the creative process, to the point that I'll be satisfied and consider my time well spent even if the outside world gives me no rewards at all. That's how I feel about playing the guitar, or drawing in my sketchbook: some days I'm in the flow and it feels great, other days I feel like I suck. Either way, the play time itself is the reward. It should be the same with writing. If I'm doing a project counting on it to be well received, that’s a problem - because the world's reaction is unpredictable, unknowable in advance, and always will be.
Jordan is a France-based filmmaker, author, and graphic novelist - as well a former video game designer. His latest graphic novel, REPLAY: MEMOIR OF AN UPROOTED FAMILY, is out now.
LIZ W. GARCIA (screenwriter-director, SPACE CADET)
I always tell people what was true for me which is that the beginning of your career is the hardest. Remind yourself of that - only uphill from here! You're writing at night, you're not seeing money from it, you're doubting your ability. You feel like you're writing into the void. The only way to keep going is to lean into the joy. Lean into the “I can't believe I get to just make up a movie!” of it. Not every writing session is joyful, but many are, and many moments within the session are surprising, funny, thrilling. Make writing the fun thing you get to do that's not your 9 to 5. Someday it will be, but before then, treat it like dessert, like your secret superpower, like the love of your life. You write because you want to, because you're in love with this medium, because it's not yet the burden that a full-time career will be.
Liz is a U.S.-based screenwriter. She offers script consultations here.
MEREDITH GLYNN (screenwriter/executive producer, “THE BOYS”)
Sadly, I think self-doubt and uncertainty are the constant companions of anyone who throws themselves into this particular ring. There's that old hoary saying that if you can do anything else - do it. And while it's both annoying and cliched when people say it, I see where they are coming from. It's a hard job and a hard life. Rewarding, seductive and (often) fulfilling...but hard. So how do you keep on keeping on? You just do. Treat every day like a new chance to write and to develop your craft, even if the day before was a wash because of family or day job or just plain lack of inspiration. Forget it, forgive yourself for it, move on. But keep moving on, keep moving forward. Compartmentalize. And also remember that everyone feels a version of this sometimes (and most of us feel it all the time!). We all wish we had more time and energy and soul to devote to this crazy life we've chosen.
Meredith is a U.S.-based screenwriter.
MICHAEL ELIAS (screenwriter, THE JERK)
These are only some of the reasons why it is not a good idea to try to be a screenwriter. The rule applies: if you want to be an artist, and are not independently wealthy, then you must have a backup job. I was a waiter, a substitute teacher, drove cabs, and when I eventually found work in Hollywood in television on sitcoms, and variety shows, I considered them my day job. At night I worked on my own screenplays, plays, and novels. I was also fortunate to have brilliant collaborators: Frank Shaw, Bob Garland, and Rich Eustis. Get a job, get a writing partner.
Michael is a U.S.-based screenwriter and novelist. His latest novel, YOU CAN GO HOME NOW, is out now.
MIKE ROYCE (developed by/showrunner, “ONE DAY AT A TIME” 2017)
Well, it helps to be young. When I graduated from college, I moved to New York City with the intention of pursuing TV/movie/commercial production work. My school (Ithaca College) gave me a list of production houses to cold call, and after a little while, I was making progress. But I found myself being using all of my time to hustle just to get these itinerant P.A. and intern gigs, which I realized was taking me down a path to succeed in showbusiness, but was adjacent to what I really wanted to do - which was be a writer. So I decided to abandon the pursuit of crew work in favor of office temp jobs that paid the bills and had nothing to do with TV or movies, but allowed me time to be creative on the side.
The new focus gave me the courage to try my hand at my secret dream, which was standup comedy. It took about three to four years of open mics to become successful enough to quit my temp jobs and simply be a comedian, which was a dream come true. Then being a comedian led to writing opportunities, so all of this is a long way of saying that by the time I finally got my first writing job, it had taken me twelve years to get back on the track I started after college.
My point is that it’s good to take chances when you’re young, however you can do so. We all lead different lives with different opportunities and privileges, of course. But it’s important to find any way possible to start leading a life of creativity right off the bat when you start out in life because it will get your mind and body used to a pattern of being a creative person - as opposed to a person who wishes they had time to be creative, but can never seem to find it.
Being a comedian forced me to basically live check to check for more than a decade. And while that was sometimes stressful, I think it helped adjust my mindset to one that was accustomed to being creative first, and making money second.
What also helped me was that I started practicing Buddhism. This was one of the most important turning points in my life, and gave me the confidence and inner strength to help weather the self-doubt and stress of pursing a career in show business - not to mention navigating my twenties and thirties. I don’t want to proselytize anyone. My point is simply that self-care is massively important, and whether that’s therapy, yoga, faith, exercise, or any combination of all of the above, you should find what helps you and keep doing it.
Finally, I just want to say, now more than ever, there is no timetable for success. I think you could argue that, mainly because of advertising demographics, there was a time when being young meant a lot more in show business that it does now. Today, with streaming and the aging of the population, writers of all ages are needed for all kinds of different shows. Sure, a few people get their first writing job right out of college. But I got mine at age thirty-four. So, just try to keep in mind that you might be one of the those people who get multiple opportunities when you’re young, or you might have to wait years for your first one. Everybody is different and life is complicated.
Mike is a U.S.-based screenwriter.
WIZ WHARTON (author, GHOST GIRL, BANANA)
The first thing I would say is that I don’t know any published authors — whether they’ve written one book or twenty — who’ve successfully overcome that feeling of imposter syndrome. You have to accept that dreaded internal critic as an occupational hazard, but one that — if you’re serious about writing — makes you excited to improve rather than defeats you into creative paralysis. Writing is like any skilled discipline in that it’s in a constant state of evolution. It takes years of practice and observation and reading other authors to understand how stories work, and equally why they don’t. And it’s as important to give yourself permission to write badly in those early stages as it is to understand when something isn’t quite there yet.
Although there is some measure of timing in publishing, unless you’re a well-known celebrity I really don’t believe that it’s luck or nepotism that gets you there in the end - as much as I understand the seductiveness of that idea when you’re grappling with disappointment. In fact, one of the most toxic habits you can get into is comparing yourself to other authors - either their output or their success. I genuinely think this is where a lot of writerly neuroses stem from, especially in the climate of social media where brilliance can seem to come fully formed straight out of the gate. Throughout my own ten-year journey to publication, the thing that kept me going was a real passion for what I was writing along with a belief that no one else could say it in quite the same way. And that passion was absolutely distinct from a simple hunger to be published; it was about being desperate to express something even if it never attracted the attention of the industry. I’ve done a lot of beta reading in my time, and the manuscripts that jump out immediately — in a bad way —are those which have clearly been written for “the market” without a real sense of emotional investment. Also, there’s a common perception that once you have an agent or a book deal, you’re essentially home and dry as a professional author, but although they’re certainly two massive hurdles to overcome, it’s just the start of your career in reality. You really do have to put in the work and approach it as a professional. Call yourself a writer, even if it doesn’t feel like it yet.
In terms of finding the time, it’s absolutely true that we’re all faced with issues in life that compete for our attention, but it’s also true that the fear of the blank page can miraculously invent all sorts of distractions for us! If you’re serious about writing, you have to make it a priority over other things: you write around the kids, you get up a half hour earlier each morning, you take a notebook and write on the daily commute or in your lunch break, or whatever. And I think you have to be honest with yourself about what is possible and bearable. If my house doesn’t get cleaned, or the laundry doesn’t get done on a particular day because I am using that time for writing, that’s fine because that’s what I choose to make a priority. Nobody is going to die because of it! A lot of writers I know who are genuinely time-poor have found the Pomodoro technique really helpful in terms of setting small targets — fifteen- or thirty-minute intervals — for themselves. Others find like-minded people on social media and do concerted writing sprints over Zoom which keeps them accountable. Unlike a lot of conventional wisdom, I don’t think it’s imperative that you write every day, as long as you get into some kind of committed habit where you’re at least actively thinking about your story. Personally, I know that I’m really excited about a project when it refuses to leave me and I’ve learned not to underestimate the time spent simply daydreaming about my characters: what they want, what’s stopping them or even how they would handle a particular situation that I find myself facing. As long as you eventually commit to putting those thoughts on paper in terms of a cohesive story, thinking time can be just as valuable as filling the page.
Wiz is a U.K.-based novelist and screenwriter. Her debut novel, GHOST GIRL, BANANA, is drowning in critical acclaim.