I envision that life of filling my days with poems and art and press work. With growing the shop to include more fun stuff--prints, jewelry, paper goods. With finally having time to do some things for the press in a less scattershot manner--like collab projects and book fairs and more time to promote things. More time for readings, even, that I usually can't go to working nights. Or weekend things because I am not so exhausted from the work week and badly need time away from the world for introverting. No daily commuting and more time at home to cook real food and keep house and all the things normally done in a hurry on weekends. I've worked a full-time job with at least side hustle since i was in my mid-twenties (even when it was just writing.). The press was basically a full-time job at some point. Add in my own creative work and all the projects sitting there waiting for me to get to. It's a nice dream. But I'm not sure its as nice as it is in my head.
About a decade ago, I let a lot of things go I'd been doing in those few frantic years of studio life--things constantly evolving shop inventory (like soap and jewelry), selling vintage, etc--things I needed to make up the difference on rent. Running a shop of that size was time consuming, esp at some times of year. Custom projects (wedding/graduation invites, party favors) took up a lot of hours. Holidays were insanity. In 2011, a little more stable in the publishing arena, I let them go in favor of getting back to the book-oriented projects--increasing the time for chapbooks and my own zines. I still supplemented them with art print and paper goods sales, of course, the chapbooks at that point pretty much only paying for themselves. As the press grew, it faciliitated being able to add more titles per year. Some years, I bit off more than I could chew. Sometimes, when real life intervened--more responsibilities at the library, anxiety/ depression issues, family loss, the financial free-fall of 2019, the shit storm that was 2020, etc--the press suffered in terms of lagging schedules, disorganization, missing orders and long shipping times I am still trying to get a handle on.
But no matter what happened there in the shop--slow months, the pandemic, not many sales--I could still do things like eat and pay the rent with my day job funds, even if the books were not quite paying fully for their own production (cardstock, paper, ink, mailers) or just general running a business costs like shipping, website, software, and Dropbox fees.) Things also got better after giving up the studio rental and I no longer had to use my regular income for press maintenance (things like toner replacement and new printers could cripple me some months.) But as most editors will tell you, publishing, esp indie publishing, is hardly an always in-the-black sort of business.
What I fear about self-employment is stability--the most obvious thing. Poetry is, of course, something that doesn't pay. but there are are other things I could do to supplement my income as plans to amp up my shop offering & art sales again are slow to percolate--copyediting, proofreading, tutoring. Design projects that I already dabble in. Manuscript critiques that have provided some great extra income occasionally. I would not mind, and may even love, selling vintage again. When I needed money to move the studio in 2019, I sold some creepy haunted dolls things on ebay, so I am not a person who can't master a side hustle. Worse case scenario i could do some paid workshops or teach comp classes (for peanuts of course, but peanuts are a help.) I worry less about financial ruin than I do what it takes to avoid it, though, how these things may also consume, and in fact, consume even more time and energies than my current gig, mostly because they are not guaranteed.
If I have an unproductive, or blissfully slow week at the library, or take a week completely off (which I try not to do since it usually results in a chaotic week after) I do still get paid. My paycheck still arrives in my bank account like clockwork every two weeks--tiny as it is. It pays my rent, my groceries, my CTA costs. It pays the electric/phone/renters insurance/ student loan/ streaming service bills. It even allows some wiggle room for indulgences These days, I usually spend this on (mostly secondhand) clothes, but in the past it financed social outings Or apartment stuff decor stuff or fancy bath gels. I also spend way too much on Dunkin and coffee, but it's an indulgence you will pry from my dead, cold hands. Depending on what's happening and the pace of life, I get takeout a bit too often when I'm too exhausted to cook or my schedule is weird. Sometimes life is fucking hard and I really want tacos. I'm okay with that, There isn't much to save, so I don't really, outside of my tiny deducted retirement provisions.
It's a small financial footprint, and I make it work sometimes better than others, but it would be nice to have enough that you didn't live paycheck to paycheck and eye your bank account quite so anxiously. Especially when you are doing the work of three people and making barely enough for one. (and also, horrifyingly, making less than $100 more per paycheck than you were a decade ago while your rent has gone up 25% in that time.) It works because I do certain things (thrift, buy clothes on ebay or deeply on sale, shop frugally, take public transportation everywhere) Because I don't do some things--travel much, for example. Or have to maintain a car. Or even take taxis or ubers unless its an emergency.) Even pre-covid, I had curtailed my going out costs from what they were a decade ago when Friday nights were for drinking in bars. (Now I'm old, so they are for maybe pizza and streaming..lol..) Maybe I chip in for a movie outing or date night every couple months, but that's about it.
Of course, going out my own could be more perilous and uncertain. And this gives me pause, not becuase I think it's impossible, but I worry what I give up in the process. Now, since my basic needs are covered, I have freedom to work on projects that have no financial gain whatsoever. To write poems and publish unknown authors and experiment with things. To make weird, dumb art that's a lot of fun. To thrown spaghetti at the wall and see what sticks. To try new things and care less whether or not they are adding to my bank account. To be generous with my time when it comes to all the things you don['t get paid for in the process of being an artist. It's hard, but it's also a gift.
Maybe I am spoiled by my side hustles being lass "hustlely"--the years when nothing depended on commerce and most of my pursuits actually cost money, let alone generated any. The kind of freedom when artmaking is divorced from commerce. When you could say YES to things that might not yield cash (readings, publications, workshops.) But more importantly could also say NO to things that while they might pay, weren't particularly desireable or worth the money. It's always the dream of the artist to give up the dayjob someday, but what would I be losing? Is it worth it?
I pretty much don't have an answer, but it's yet another thing to think about in the next few months...
