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"On The Merits of the Day Job"
by Paul T. Riddell It's the most familiar mantra in the comics industry, at least among the beginners and the wannabes. You know the one: "Man, if I didn't have this day job, the work I'd put out…" A couple of weeks ago, I crashed a local comic show in Dallas, and had the opportunity to talk to quite a few beginning comic artists. One in particular had a portfolio full of really impressive work, and pencils for his new project, which were about half-inked. "Hey, I'd get more done if I didn't have to work, but you gotta pay rent, right?" was his response, as if he was ashamed that he hadn't hit the big time right out the door. Rest assured that he had no reason to be ashamed about this situation. In fact, my argument is that everyone should have a day job in the comics business and hold one for ten years, just to see if they're all serious about the situation. The popular perception of artists and writers is that they're able to live comfortably from the proceeds from their work. Never mind that this cliché of writers making $37.50 an hour for freelance work and artists being able to sell millions of dollars' worth of sketches and paintings is a horrid myth perpetuated by dolts who couldn't write or draw their way out of a pay toilet but figure that they could get in on this great get-rich-quick scheme if they just had an angle. This popular perception states that writers and artists who have a real job are just waiting for their big break, else they wouldn't be there, and never mind that their art might at best pay for a meal at Burger King once a month. (I've been laid off several times because my bosses had the attitude of "Oh, well, he has something to fall back on," and I'm one of many writers who were turned down for new jobs because the interviewer was certain that we'd pack up and leave the moment we sold a short story.) Yeah, most of us don't want to work a real job, but the option of a nine-to-five office grind is a lot more satisfying than the option of starving to death under a highway overpass. Even so, anyone trying to work and produce art knows the frustration. You get up early in the morning, slog to whatever soul-draining timewaster pays the bills, and hope that you have enough energy to finish that story or that panel after you get home. By the time you finally get up to speed at home, you take a look at the clock and realize that you might be able to get in three hours of sleep before you have to start the cycle all over again. And forget doing art on the weekend: that's reserved for taking care of all of the little things put off during the week, such as laundry or grocery shopping. Don't even think of engaging in relationships with other people during all of this: disconnecting the phone and ignoring the doorbell aren't affectations. They're necessities for survival. If this is the case and working a day job is antithetical to the concept of art, then why do I advocate that everyone in the comics business have one? Well, that's simple. Like impending executions, day jobs have a way of clearing the mind. More importantly, they have a tendency to remove the wheat from the chaff fairly quickly. Anyone who can't make a deadline while working another job probably won't make a deadline anyway. Just imagine, for a moment, that everyone reading this had money coming in from another source, obviating the need for a "real" job and allowing all of us to stay home. We all like to think that we'd use this time to work on our dream projects, and with those of us with the discipline to do so, that's true. For the rest of us…well, let's just say that things get in the way. It's easy to sit down in front of the computer or drawing board and say that wonders will issue forth, but then the phone rings, and a quick call turns into three hours of chatting with someone who hasn't said hello in six months. Go back to the board, and it's time for lunch, and why not watch television while eating lunch? Two hours later, time for a nap, and then run a few errands. Before you know it, the whole day has gone by, without anything to show for it, and with no guarantee that the same thing won't happen tomorrow or the next day or the day after that. In fact, based on experience, I submit that giving beginning artists a free lunch like this is the worst thing that could happen to them. Firstly, it removes all incentive for artists with talent to keep striving: after all, they now have all the time in the world to improve themselves, so they don't try as hard to knock off their rough edges. As for the rest, there's nothing more worthless than an artist wannabe who has no incentive to draw (or ink, or write) or get off the pot. I've seen at least a dozen beginning artists ruined this way, either by well-meaning girlfriends/boyfriends or parents who figure that the best thing they can do is subsidize their darling so their darling has the time to pursue art. Invariably, the end result resembled that old joke "What do you call a bass guitarist who just broke up with his girlfriend?" (The answer is "Homeless".) They have no finished work or nearly finished work when the funds finally dry up, but they can't be bothered to do anything else because "I'm an artist, man!" With this in mind, I thoroughly endorse the idea of every beginning artist getting a day job. This applies for pencillers, inkers, scupltors, Web designers, writers, and anyone of a creative bent. No handouts, no subsidies, and no grants until after they're able to support themselves from their crafts. No option of moving back home if things get rough, and no spouses, significant others, or running buddies to bail them out if they have a hissy fit and walk off the job. For all intents and purposes, they're on their own for the next ten years. The reasons for this should be obvious. Yes, balancing a job and a passion is difficult, but coming home from work to spend the next eight hours working on a comic isn't anywhere near as hard as coming home to take care of kids or to study for night classes at the local college. Having talent is one thing, but having the determination to keep working on a dream, no matter how exhausted one gets, is the seal of a real artist instead of a wannabe. Balancing both masters also teaches discipline to stay with a project, and the necessity of budgeting time so that the art gets done in the time allotted. This also makes the artist consider exactly how badly does s/he want to finish and produce something that just might be remembered a week from yesterday. Working a really nasty job also stokes the fire in the belly to work as hard as possible on the dream, if only to escape from the horrors of a lifetime behind the counter at the local Dairy Queen or Borders. And for the wannabes who would otherwise squander time and materials, having a day job at least keeps them off welfare. Besides, the idea of having time free to pursue one's craft still plays into the cliché that art isn't work. Any creative endeavor requires effort, and anyone who says otherwise obviously hasn't done any. Writing or drawing is just as much a job as pumping gas or filing forms; the obvious appeal for those serious about it is getting a regular paycheck for doing what they would be doing anyway. Yes, professionals make the work look easy, but they usually worked years to get to that level, and their work habits are now sufficiently advanced that they can get away with it. Only an idiot starts karate or dancing classes and expects to be at the level of Bruce Lee or Fred Astaire in a matter of hours, but otherwise rational people figure that they can start writing at the level of John Steinbeck or Warren Ellis. This is, of course, ridiculous, and the only way to attain that level is through a lot of practice. Sitting around and waiting for someone to discover you only works in the movies. With
this in mind, artists shouldn't kvetch about the time that they
seemingly waste on gainful employment. Instead of bitching "Oh,
I had to squeeze this out after I got done with work," they should
exult to the heavens, "Look at what I did! Even that goddamn job
at Subway couldn't keep me down!" Even if they never achieve fame
or even recognition for their efforts, they're still ahead of the
wannabes who wait for a hand from the heavens to give them the break
they feel they deserve.
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