The greatest problem of an author is not running out of ideas. It is running out of money. Worse, it is not making a dime with each oeuvre. One works to death for the void, finding no audience, and no payment. When finding an audience, there’s still no payment.
Here I am blogging, to keep a non-paying audience, still with the illusion of making it grow enough to the point of being paid for add space. This is so silly. It won’t happen. My content isn’t comercial enough.
Being an original author is no way of making a living. One has to be trendy, fashionable and formula rendering to get some income. It’s a matter of finding a tasteful recipe for the crowd and serve pudding over and over again, just like Hollywood. Some illuminated call this recipes genres. The more you follow the recipe, the better author you are.
There are also some enlightened critiques defending the idea of compromise between originality and recipes for success. Those shrunk brains don’t understand that compromise means loss of new meaningful content, which is cut out to be replaced by standards. It is commercial censorship and soul amputation.
Who am I kidding, then, with my silly project? Both this site and CHRONOS will never make me money to survive. I will only make it through commissions, as a drawing and copywriting machine. A working author, I suppose.
How is someone supposed to do such a thing? Praising from renowned institutions, critics and celebrities? Flashing excerpts like movie trailers? Ads on matching to the public’s criteria? Gifts and discounts?
What does it take to make someone buy one’s work and services? Where is the trigger to make someone feel the need for the art of a certain author? The call for prestige? The guaranteed fun? The well-tuned melancholy? The signs of great wisdom?
How can an artist be weightless and not imposing? Is stardom a requirement to survive? Is this all about branding and building up communities of fans? All about fame? Showbiz?
Are artists doomed?
We live in a time when our professional choices are for life, if we are lucky enough to have a steady job. Sometimes I wonder how things were before the existence of the social state. A world of classes, I suppose. Workers and bosses, slaves and owners. Unfortunately the social state has not taken bold steps yet. Politicians keep seeing both unemployment and careers as something they are not responsible for. Minimum conditions of dignity are still taken as negotiable.
Each citizen wastes the entire life dreading the loss of income enough for bread on the table. Once a job is acquired we must stick to the damn set of tasks because our lives literally depend on it. We may boast our pride for our freedom and democracy, but the truth is we still live in a society based upon fear. Some political wings keep believing and spreading the doctrine of fear as the motivation to work and prosperity.
If keeping the means to survive is so demanding, changing jobs and abandoning careers is insane. There is absolutely no social structure to endorse a citizen with free will to chose how to live. One might be totally bonkers to even pronounce such a blasphemy. Reality punches us in the face with the cold fist of supply and demand. We are not in this world to self-fulfillment. We’re here to be winners, to be successful, to become the few capable of making money pour into our hands. Even if that takes making our soul miserable.
Abandoning or keeping a career is a choice between two suicides.