I saw this on another blog and it's something J9 and I were sort of discussing this morning. We talked more about what to tell the young MFA students as they step out into the world.
Having been raised by a conservative Republican businessman father, who when I turned 18 handed me pamplets on "A Woman's Rights in the Workplace" and a deposit into my retirement fund, my advice for all young MFA dreamers and writers is to follow your bliss. I'm sure this comes from me jumping into the pool of life with waterwings on, with a lifeguard on shore, and flippers just in case. I did not roam out into life bravely. I followed the "secure" route, ending up in a corporate job, with a happy paycheck, 401K, DKNY outfits, and nylons. I followed what everyone else was doing, graduating and getting a "good job" with stock options.
Now, granted, it was that paycheck that allowed me stash away cash to have a downpayment on this magical home and place live now and I can't have regrets because when I wake up in the morning, I am thankful for the world around me and that world would not have been made possible had I taken any other route, but I realized about 2 1/2 years into my job, I was losing myself and becoming my father.
But if I had to give advice now, and this is the advice I'd give to my own daughter, it's to follow what you're passionate about, even if it's making headbands out of recycled material, or yes, even being a mime. Whatever you love to do, go for it. I'm not about "security" anymore, about treating writing or passion as your "hobby" while you do something else. Yes, sometimes we have to "do something else" (like sell your stuff on eBay to buy books or get a part time job, etc.) but I believe highly in jumping into the world and falling flat on your face. It makes for better stories.
As I grow older, I'm much more the believer in the fail and fail again theory, into throwing one's heart into every space around you then cleaning up the blood with a tissue. A lot of my Republican tendencies about security and money changed in December when I lost my eyesight for a month. I was reminded how temporary we all are, how quickly things can change, and to be very aware what we give our priority to.
I believe in living simply, volunteer simplicity. And while I'll splurge on the occasional Buddha, I remind myself that each dollar I save, is a dollar I don't have to earn back. It's not about living a risky life, but taking risks in what you believe in. It's not always easy, sometimes there are tears involved. Sometimes you will run out of the house only to slam into a glass sliding door, but it's better than waking up and realizing you are regretful about something you didn't try or do. You can always change paths, turn around and fix a mistake, but to find that you forgot to live the life you wanted... a painful morning.
Anyway, here's what I've been blabbering about as well. Though I think Cary Tennis' answer is thoughtful because it reminds me there are many options, just keep feeding your art.
April 17, 2007
Hi, Cary,
I’m approaching 50 years old. I’ve been a jazz pianist for nearly 30 years. I’m not anyone you’ve ever heard of. I’m good but not great. I never thought I would be famous, and that doesn’t bother me. I’ve had lots of hotel and restaurant gigs, accompanied hundreds of lame wannabe singers (and some good ones, too) and done thousands of gigs in jazz clubs, some with incredible musicians and some where nobody was listening. I always thought if I stuck with it, I’d be able to make a living. I think I read somewhere that the average jazz musician these days makes about $17,000 a year. A 50-year-old making that seems pathetic. I do better than that, but not by much. I’ve spent my life climbing this ladder of musical success and found out when I got near the top that the ladder was against the wrong wall. I’m not married and don’t have kids. Never would have been able to afford them. That would have been nice.
How can a person like me change into something different? It seems impossible and I don’t know where to begin.
We always hear heart-warming stories of people who followed their dream and never gave up and so forth, but what of the people who followed their dream and failed? We don’t want to hear about them.
I’m an intelligent person. I have two master’s degrees. One in music, the other in fine arts (another useful degree). Yet I have absolutely no idea about how to go about making money.
Yes, that is what I want. Money. I want health insurance. I want a decent place to live. I want to think maybe I won’t have to be taking lousy gigs at age 80 to buy a meal.
I don’t think I’ve been totally naive. I didn’t strive for fame, à la “American Idol.” I studied hard. I know music theory inside out. I checked out the history of jazz piano from Jelly Roll Morton to Keith Jarrett. I thought being true to your art was satisfaction enough. I guess it’s not. I want the satisfaction of making a decent living. I’m tired of taking every $100 gig that comes my way to play for a tone-deaf singer. After I drive an hour each way, and pay the IRS its cut, and I end up with $50. This is what practitioners of “America’s only original art form” have to deal with.
I really think I could leave it all behind. I could be happy playing the occasional gig for fun. Or playing for myself and friends. I’d like to do some more composing just for self-satisfaction. But I have no idea how to make a living! This revelation just drives me nuts. The thought of starting from scratch at my age is mind-boggling.
I know these questions are very broad. Most people look at me and think I’m lucky, that playing music for a living must be great. Other people in other occupations must feel the same. I’m just barely making a living. Is it possible for me to change?
Musically Frustrated
Carey’s Response:
Dear Musically Frustrated,
I, too, was frustrated this morning when I sat down to answer your letter. Nothing was coming. I went to the regular place where I go to get words and there were no words there. Weird. Am I running out? I had to leave my house and walk around. I went to a meeting of the type I often attend. It was somewhat comforting but did not really help.
Then, standing on the street corner waiting for a train, I noticed a bumper sticker on an old Toyota Camry sedan. It said “Real musicians have day jobs!”
I felt that my prayers had been answered — yours too, actually.
It was a needed reminder: Your music does not have to support you. In fact, your music might be happier if you were supporting it.
You have done the almost impossible by supporting yourself as a jazz pianist all these years. It is a remarkable, heroic and admirable feat. That doesn’t mean that at a certain point you can’t sit out a few sets.
You may find it hard to change; deep down you may feel that what you are is a musician, end of story.
I felt at one time that I was a writer, end of story. But it wasn’t end of story. Was more like beginning of story.
I did not gain freedom to write with fluidity and ease until I stopped believing that I had to be a writer.
Read the rest of the response here:
