What do you do?

I am a writer.  That’s not all I am.

Since I’ve determined that this blog and podcast are for creative people living in the real world, I think we should talk about how we view ourselves and our work.  Today’s post is not for those who are working in their art full-time.  It’s for those of us who are pursuing creative work outside of a day job or unpaid occupation (such as staying home with children.)

Here’s the question:  how do you formulate your identity as an artist or creator, and how does your creative work fit in with the rest of your life?  Your response to the first part of the question is in your mind, but the second part is visible, and completely practical.

When we are introduced to someone, the tendency is to ask what they do for a living.  They give a simple answer, which leads us to think that they primarily do that one thing.  And in return, they have the same view of us.  It’s a quick way to define people and categorize them.  

If we don’t get to know them any better, we both leave that brief interaction having a very small picture of each other.  That’s fine for a two-minute meeting, but once you start thinking about your identity as an artist or creator, you might change your pat answer.  You might add a little blurb about your creative work (or at least, you’ll be thinking it in your head.)

Thankfully, we humans are more than we let on during those quick introductions.  We are not that basic and boring!  The reality is, while many of us do have one main profession, that’s only a part of who we are.  

We’re not one-dimensional at all.  We each have different experiences and talents, and they give us individuality and character.  They make us interesting.

As we move through life, we build an “experience library” over time.  That library is always available for our reference later, when we build upon what we already know, and then combine that experience with our talents.  Now we have a valuable and unique combination of experience and skill, that we can apply to our creative work.

And yet, there is a very different fantasy version of an artist that seems to be part of the collective unconscious, and I don’t know where it originated.  In that story, unlike what most of us would call reality, the artist is deeply and exclusively immersed in creation all day, every day.  The artist may lose everything in pursuit of the art, but it’s his passion, and he will never divert from “The Artist’s Path.”

Is that really what anyone wants?

It somehow seems more art-sy if the artist doesn’t do anything else.  You know, the trope of the starving artist (singer/playwright/photographer) who can barely pay rent and yet is 100% dedicated to the craft and hopes that one day, they will be recognized for their greatness.

That kind of seems romantic and charming, I suppose.  But I really don’t want to live that way, and I know that I’m not alone.

Sure, there is a possibility that the art would lead to riches and glory.  Sometimes, that happens.  It’s entirely possible, although not likely.  But even then, there is usually a lot of sacrifice involved.  As with everything, it’s a choice.

I’ve come to realize that it’s OK to divide my time and energy in ways that allow for a professional career and an artistic one, all in the same lifetime.  There is little pressure, except what I put on myself, and no appreciable financial risk.  And that holistic approach works with my real, day-to-day life.

If I had pursued writing, and only writing, when I was younger, I don’t think it would have worked out.  I know myself better than that.  I needed the jobs I’ve had, not only because I enjoyed them or was proficient at them, but because they provided me with significant (for me) benefits such as a regular schedule, the security of healthcare and a salary, and opportunities for socialization.

I’ll never know what might have happened, but I do know how things worked out, and I’m glad I chose the path I did.  It’s all part of my experience, and I file it away in my experience library.

What would it look like if you started to acknowledge, to yourself and others, that your creative work is part of who you are?