I’ve received several versions of this same basic question since starting the newsletter, so I think maybe this post is long overdue. Here’s the most recent message:
I'd like to hear more specifically about when/how you broke free from the matrix i.e. 9-5 life. I'll try not to bog you down with all the sad details but suffice it to say this has been an extraordinarily hard year. I provide for my wife and two kids and when I get done with work, I have just enough energy to shower, eat, and maybe play a game or read a chapter before falling asleep just to start all over again. What factors enabled you to make the jump to creative endeavors solely?
You have great advice on how financially viable your art is shouldn't be a priority but how do you truly separate that good ideal with reality? Even if I said fuck it and threw myself into developing a show or podcast on game or show retrospectives, I feel totally lost from the jump due to my other life obligations.
First and foremost, I want you to know that everything I'm about to say is coming from a place of deep empathy. I can relate to a lot of what you just described and I'm sure many others are going to be nodding along in recognition as they read through your question.
Back in 2001, Dave Navarro from Jane's Addiction released a solo album called Trust No One. The lead single was a song called "Rexall". The only reason I remember it is that it contains a lyric that sometimes jumps to mind when I receive comments or messages like this...
I want the life you think I have.
I promise there's not even a hint of snark in that sentiment, just a bittersweet smile.
Here's the thing about escaping The Matrix... once Neo is unplugged, he wakes up in a world that's a lot less hospitable than the one he just left. It's drab, it's dirty, the food's terrible, and there's the constant threat of danger. Not a bad allegory for the starving artist, actually.
Inside The Matrix, Neo may have had safety, security, and all the creature comforts, but he felt like an anonymous drone without a purpose. He knew he was destined for more. So while living outside of The Matrix might be worse in a lot of ways, at least it's real, right?
Except that the original trilogy doesn't end with the heroes destroying The Matrix. It's ultimately about the sacrifices that are required in order to bridge the two worlds and achieve a peaceful coexistence. So...
What factors enabled you to make the jump to creative endeavors solely?
I haven't done that. When things are going really well for me, my creative projects supplement my income. But for the most part, art does not pay the bills. I mean, hell — the two main things I'm working on right now are a self-funded web series on YouTube and a podcast. There's no Brinks truck backing up to my door. Sometimes, just breaking even on something is the pie-in-the-sky dream.
And that largely comes down to the fact that everything I produce is stuff that most people expect to get for free. I've spent my entire adult life essentially just giving away all of my work because it seems like the only way to get anyone to look or listen. And once they do, I know that a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of that audience might feel compelled to throw a few bucks my way.
As an example, my previous podcast had a really successful Patreon. But even at the height of its popularity, our patrons represented less than 7% of the people who listened to that show. The same goes for our web series The Strange Case of Lucy Chandler. The episodes are free to watch and then we can expect that 5-10% of the audience will support it by purchasing the bonus content we sell.
But I'm not complaining! I get it! I really do. Because I’m also on the other side of it. I would love to financially support every single creator whose work I enjoy, but that's not currently feasible. So I have to pick and choose. That's a reality that makes me extra grateful for the folks who do support my work.
At this point, I've accepted that this is the business model for most creative endeavors: cast a very wide net by making almost everything available for no cost, try to scoop up as large an audience as possible for that free content, and then hope that the tiny percentage of that audience who decides to support my work leaves me with enough to get by.
That's the reality of life outside The Matrix for a lot of artists. Most of them can't fully disconnect. That is one of my goals, but I'm not there yet. Hell, there are famous authors/filmmakers/illustrators, etc. that you've heard of who go back to their day jobs in between projects.
Also, not sure if you've ever had to prepare taxes when the majority of your income comes from freelance work or being self-employed, but GOOD. GOD. I just went through it again and here's how it feels every time...
I can go more in-depth about monetization options at some point, but right now I'm just pointing all of this out to hammer home the fact that like most of you reading this, I also spend the majority of my time working on shit that has nothing to do with my creative pursuits. I also have enormous demands on my time and energy.
I think we all (myself included) need to be careful not to assume that just because someone doesn’t have the same list of challenges or obstacles that we do, it means they don’t have any at all. The stuff I make doesn't exist because my schedule or lifestyle allows it. It exists in spite of those things.
I did not break free from The Matrix. I just found a (relatively) peaceful co-existence. Maybe that's disappointing for some of you to find out. Maybe that means you'll be less interested in what I have to say from this point on. But let me reiterate a really important sentence from the very first post of this newsletter:
I'm no guru. There’s no pedestal here. I'm on this journey too.
I can't remember a time I've ever had hours and hours to dedicate to any of these projects. That's why I'm constantly advocating you identify and commit to the pockets of free time you do have. Some days that might be an hour. On others, it might only be ten minutes. But even the minutes add up. And I'd rather have progress compound instead of regret.
This is one of the reasons it takes me so long to get out new episodes of Lucy Chandler by the way. I would love to be able to edit that series for at least 6-8 hours a day, five days a week. But I can't. I have to take what I can get. Even if it means putting them out on a less-than-ideal schedule. Because I promised myself I'm not going to quit or abandon something I believe in just because it doesn’t match the idealized version I was holding in my head. I’ve learned over and over again that nothing in life ever lines up exactly the way it's supposed to or turns out exactly the way I imagined. And for me, getting those episodes out slower than I'd prefer to is better than not getting them out at all.
Prioritizing one area of your life means temporarily making some sacrifices in other areas. When we were shooting Lucy Chandler, I was also working a full-time job and producing a podcast where I was on the hook for everything — I did all of the research, all of the editing, all of the technical and behind-the-scenes stuff, and all of the accounting and bookkeeping. That included the bonus show we were doing for those Patreon subscribers. So it was really two shows. And somewhere along the way, a third show was thrown into the mix.
There were some weekends where we'd shoot for 12 hours, I'd race home, spend another four hours recording two podcasts back-to-back, shoot for another 12-14 hours the following day, and then be back at work on Monday. That wasn't just once or twice. There was a stretch where at least two of my weekends each month looked like that. And that was in addition to all of the scenes we were shooting on weeknights after everyone was done with work. Because that's what was required to make it happen. And you know what? If I came up with another idea that I loved and believed in as much as that web series, I would do it again. In a fucking heartbeat.
This is not to say the solution should always be that intense or dramatic. That’s just in case anyone’s thinking, "Well, this is all easy for him to say. What does he know about feeling overextended?"
I've started thinking about all of the commitments and responsibilities competing for my attention in terms of different seasons. For example, a few months ago I knew I wanted to finish editing the fourth episode of Lucy Chandler and get it out before the new year. Making that a priority meant turning down other gigs and opportunities. It also meant saying no to a lot of fun stuff I really wanted to do. But I was in a season of life where that project was my priority. I had to make some financial and social sacrifices as a result. But again, temporarily.
Conversely, the last month or so has been the opposite. My wife and I found a filmmaking competition we really wanted to enter. The deadline was the end of March. Participating in that would have meant skipping some family get-togethers and not seeing friends we don't have a chance to get together with very often. We decided that stuff was more important right now. That's the season we're in. So in that case, the sacrifices were creative.
And really, that's what balance feels like to me now. It's not a near-constant state of equilibrium between the two worlds. It means things sometimes lean one way for a certain period of time and then back the other way for another period of time. That wasn't a situation I stumbled into, it's one I had to create. Because setting priorities also means establishing boundaries. Not just with others, but with yourself.
"Most of us have weak decision-making muscles. We do not realize what it means to make a real decision. We fail to recognize the force of change that a truly congruent, committed decision makes.
The word "decision" comes from Latin roots, with de meaning "down" or "away from" and caedere meaning "to cut." Therefore, a decision means cutting from any other possibility. A true decision means you are committed to achieving a result and cutting yourself off from any other possibility.
Committed decisions show up in two places: your calendar and your bank account. No matter what you say you value, or even think your priorities are, you have only to look at last year's calendar and bank account to see the decisions you have made about what you truly value.
See how you have reserved your time. Look at your expenditures. Those are the trails to the decisions you have made."
- Carol Hildebrand
So maybe it means not playing that video game or firing up Netflix at the end of the day. Maybe it means your family sees a little bit less of you for a few weeks. Maybe it means getting up half an hour earlier than usual if that's the only way to carve out some extra time.
And look, you might decide that everything you'd have to sacrifice in order to achieve a particular goal wouldn't be worth it. Which leads me to a question I think we should all ask ourselves if we're failing to generate momentum on a particular project...
Am I invested in the process or the outcome?
A few years ago, I got really attached to the idea of developing a serialized fiction podcast. It was a small-town murder mystery in the vein of Twin Peaks. I even had a pretty extensive outline for the ten episodes that would have made up the first season. But as it got further along, I realized this was going to require as much time and money as one of our film projects. And our long-term goal for 27th Letter Productions was not to be a podcasting network, it was to make more narrative video content. Producing that podcast would have meant sacrificing some other creative project that was more aligned with my true passion and our larger goal. I loved the idea of having a fiction podcast as part of our catalog, but the process of making it would absolutely not have been worth the sacrifices required. It just didn't make sense. So I let it go. And because my priorities were clear, I didn't feel disappointed when I made that choice. I felt unburdened.
I'm not trying to talk you out of anything. Because if you asked yourself, "Do I really want to make a show or do I just want to have a show?", I think I know what the answer would be. So a few closing thoughts...
#1) No one feels like they have enough time. Ever. But we also all have experience with sacrificing certain things to prioritize something else. Whether you’re conscious of it or not. Maybe you've never done it for your creative pursuits, but you've definitely done it. And maybe even for things that are less fulfilling than crossing this item off of your bucket list would be.
#2) While it's true that there's only so much any of us can reasonably take on at any given time, I also believe we're all capable of a lot more than we think.
#3) As Desmond Tutu said: "There is only one way to eat an elephant: one bite at a time." Instead of stressing out about producing an entire show, focus on one episode. Or, if you really have to, maybe scale it back even further. I might revisit that Twin Peaks-esque podcast somewhere down the road, but right now it's just too massive. It would be 7-8 hours long and it's got 20+ speaking roles. But if I really couldn't let go of the idea of doing a narrative podcast, I'd probably think about doing something much shorter with a much smaller cast. Those constraints might even result in something really interesting. And I say I'd "probably" think about it because I absolutely have.
If the initial idea really is too incompatible with the rest of your life at this particular moment, don't be so rigid that you close the door to other possibilities. It doesn't have to be all or nothing. Maybe there's a more manageable version of the core idea. Maybe there's an entirely different way to flex your creative muscles for the time being.
#4) I’ve definitely been involved with projects that reached a point where I felt like, “The only way I can justify continuing to spend time on this is if I’m getting paid for it.” But that was because in those situations, I was no longer getting anything else out of the experience. No creative satisfaction, fulfillment, or challenge.
But the projects I’ve been the most passionate about are the ones I’d be doing whether I was getting paid or not. I knew I probably wasn’t ever going to make a dime on Lucy Chandler. I just needed to get that out of me. I needed that to exist.
Rogues Gallery is great because every time I sit down to record an episode, I know I’m going to laugh my ass off and learn something new about subject matter I’m invested in. Even if the mics weren’t on, I’d be geeking out about horror movies with Mike or talking to Kristen about our favorite films and what makes them work. But since we are recording those conversations, a great bonus is that it exposes a broader audience to some of my other work.
The same goes for this newsletter. I am getting ready to make some changes about what’s free and what goes behind a paywall, but I didn’t start a Substack because I saw other people making money with theirs. This isn’t just a potential revenue stream, it’s an outlet. A lot of these posts are me working through or processing something. There’s something more I’m getting out of it.
I would make films even if no one was watching. I would write even if no one was reading. I’m not saying that wouldn’t suck, just that I can’t not do those things. Getting paid for them still feels like I’m getting away with something. Maybe that mindset makes me a terrible person to be taking advice from. But…
To bring this full circle, and this goes for everyone in a similar situation, I wouldn't get too preoccupied with how to make the jump to creative endeavors full-time before you’ve even started your first project. That's a little bit like someone who wants to take up running asking which pair of shoes will help them win first place in a marathon. For now, I'd focus on trying to make creativity a daily habit.
There was an additional part of this question about finding collaborators when you live somewhere without a thriving community of fellow artists, but I'm going to have to save that for a separate post.
And finally, if you're new to this newsletter, here are some related posts you might find helpful:
“I Don’t Have Time!” & Other Lies We Tell Ourselves - How to stay consistent and hold yourself accountable.
What If I’m Not Good Enough? - Some thoughts on starting new projects when you feel overwhelmed and underqualified.
Art Is Not Just A F*cking Hobby - If you feel guilty because the time you’re spending being creative is time you “should” be doing something else, read this.
Take care, friends. Talk to you soon.
If there’s a topic you’d like me to cover or a question you’d like to ask, send a message to chrisfightsdemons@substack.com. If it’s something I think other readers will be interested in, I’ll add it to the list and respond in a future post.
I really appreciate the idea of shifting priorities as a fluid concept rather than a forever commitment. That framing really alleviates the stress I put on myself about how I’m spending my time and also pushes me to reconsider shuffling things around again. As someone who is usually oriented to task completion, it’s sometimes difficult to let things go unfinished too long, which makes some of the longer artistic endeavors almost too overwhelming to even start. But got to start taking those bites or the elephant never gets eaten!
Thank you Chris. Definitely not disinterested or disappointed by your candor. In fact quite the opposite to say "Oh, you too huh?," and a more "See this guy gets it." It's inspiring because it reiterates the cliché that we are all working off of the same 24 hour day. "Am I invested in the process or the outcome[]", slaps pretty spot on with a question I ask myself from time to time of "Who is this for, why are you doing this?" An example being at one point, I wanted to create my own podcast, breaking down movies in a niche way that stands out from the others. It wasn't for attention or even to make money, but just an outlet for me, because personally it's the only way I feel I can connect with people. Coincidentally, I'm giving Twin Peaks a rewatch, and have no one to talk about it with. It's sad but also frustrating, because I'm at the age now where my personal passion for movies has passed any of my friends' interests. And I feel the only way I can express my love for this art and feel connected to people outside of my family, is to create a project where I engage with strangers. The production and technical part become exhausting and overwhelming that I neg myself out from continuing this particular endeavor, but I'll tell myself "I just couldn't find time". The moral of the story, if you want it bad enough, you'll figure it out to make the time.