Is It Art? Is It Business?

This past week a debate emerged on Twitter, predictably and quickly getting out of hand, about whether writers are and should be pursuing art (or “passion” as one commenter put it) or whether they are and should be engaged in a for-profit business. I’ll spare you the details, which went on for far too long (as most things on Twitter do, and wasn't the only writing dust-up in the past week), but I do think it raises interesting questions for each of us about the purposes of creative work, and who gets to determine what those purposes are.

If you are creating something and it doesn’t produce income, does it count? If you create something and sell it, does it cheapen the creative pursuit? Do certain people in the chain (the creators, the brokers, the sellers, the buyers) have more authority than others in terms of what is “worthy” of production?

These are, of course, questions of power and control, access and inclusion, which always should be interrogated. The power structure of the publishing industry, like all power structures, allows certain individuals access while denying others. But it’s also a question of choice: What path do I, individually, choose to pursue in the act of creation?

These are age-old questions. Those priceless works of art that now hang in our museums were created by journeymen (and most were men, let’s be clear about that) artists trying to put food on their plates and keep a roof over their heads. Who knows how people centuries from now will view the creative products we currently label as “commercial.” And make no mistake, when we apply labels to creative works like “commercial,” “upmarket,” “literary,” “genre,” and so on, we are attaching value judgments about what is worthy of being called “art” and what will turn a profit.

When I ask myself that question of the path I choose to pursue, here’s where I land: I write because I love it. I write because it feeds me, creatively and emotionally. I write because I love the process of writing. I’m fortunate and privileged to have a day job that allows me to build in writing as part of the execution of my goals, which gives that work additional meaning and purpose for me. And I would love nothing more than to be a commercially successful author. It’s not why I write. But I would take being a blockbuster success over a literary darling, any day. If I had the ability to control my own destiny, absolutely I would be a commercially successful, working writer. That's my path. That's what I would choose.

I’m clear-eyed that roughly 1-2 percent (non-researched, but generally agreed-upon figure) of authors are able to support themselves exclusively with their writing (I imagine the same holds true for other creative pursuits as well). Most published writers either have a day job (or two) or have a partner who is willing to support them. I don’t have the latter, and I have bills to pay and need health insurance, so I won’t be quitting my day job anytime soon, if ever. Does it make it harder to do the work of creating? Absolutely. But it doesn’t make it any less worthwhile nor does it make me or what I create any less worthy.

If you are engaged in something creative, these are questions you will have to answer for yourself. Is it a passion project? Is it art? Is it a business? Is it possible that it can be all three, at once? Knowing what the power structures are, are you willing to pursue it if it means never getting past those gatekeepers, no matter how unfair that might be?

Again, these are individual questions, with no easy answers. What I do know is this: Your path is your path, and no one else’s. Whatever you're working towards, pursue it passionately and stay true to who you are. No one gets to tell you why you do what you do, or whether what you create has value. In this unfair, fickle, and challenging business, that is, in fact, the only thing that really matters.