10 Ways I Invest in Myself as a Writer
The starving artist archetype teaches us not only that there is “no money” in the arts but also that artists are simply bad with whatever money does manage to come their way. No wonder artists (myself included) struggle with scarcity mindsets. Even now—after three years afloat as a small business and independent artist—I have to actively work through financial anxiety and money dysmorphia (a term I learned earlier this year from theSkimm) on a regular basis.
I only started getting comfortable putting money regularly into my art practice after signing up for artist business workshops that my state art council had advertised in their newsletter. (Big shout out to the folx at Mass Cultural Council who put together monthly artist opportunities through ArtSake!) Participating in business workshops geared specifically toward artists helped me understand that my socialization around money was negatively impacting my business decisions (and therefore my art practice). They also helped me realize that (responsibly) spending money to make money actually can be an act of self-care.
So, lying down on my office floor with bank statements, highlighters, and pens scattered around me, I’m writing this post with the hope that sharing the ways I’ve given myself permission to invest in my own art practice will lend you some courage to (responsibly) invest in your own too.
1. I spend money on financial literacy workshops for artists.
I cannot emphasize enough how important it is for artists to become financially literate. This means understanding words like overhead, gross income, business expense, and tax deductible. It also means understanding how much to charge for a project or hourly, why you probably should open a separate business credit card ASAP, and where to pay quarterly taxes.
One of the best investments I’ve made has been in a program called Money Bootcamp, run by a tax agency specifically geared to artists called Sunlight Tax. I learned about this program by taking a ton of artist financial literacy classes through an organization called Assets through Artists (If you’re a New England artist, check out their free online programing.), which awarded me a substantial scholarship to complete the program.
Outside of New England? Check out Creative Capital, which also provides free financial literacy resources. Local libraries and community foundations are also good places to look. When searching for financial literacy programs, try using the terms entrepreneur, cultural bearer, creative, small business, and micro-business in addition to artist or writer.
2. I pay an artist-friendly certified public accountant (CPA) to file my taxes.
I know I could use TurboTax, but I do not want to. (Read here about TurboTax lobbying.). Plus, developing a relationship with a CPA (especially a CPA who works specifically with artists) means I have a real human to turn to for tax advice—a real human who understands that poetry books, museum tickets, and residency fees are legitimate business expenses (unlike my parents’ CPA who works primarily with employees with only W2 income). I’ve been working with Philadelphia Tax Prep for Artists for the past 3 years, and I appreciate their expertise in working with artists and contract workers. (Note: They work with artists living outside of Philadelphia too!)
3. I spend money on my home office.
And I’m learning to buy high quality products that last—instead of just sorting my search results by price (low to high). This is definitely a category of business expenses that I include in my budget less so to make sure I spend modestly and more so that I make sure I’m paying attention to upkeep. I grew up frugal, and there are certain business expenses I’m learning to stop seeing as frivolous or self-indulgent—like buying a new desk chair that doesn’t kill my back (even though my current desk chair isn’t broken).
4. I give myself permission to spend money on writing research.
This is another business expense I struggle not to feel guilty over. Maybe it’s because, unlike with other business expenses (e.g. purchasing an ad to market my writing coaching services), writing research is a business expense where it can be difficult to see a direct, short-term gain (especially as a poet). Let’s say, for example, I spend $100 on an advertisement marketing my services as a writing coach; if a writer reaches out as a result of that advertisement and they pay me $1,100 to help them work on a project over the course of a few months, it’s easy to see that the $100 advertisement was a good investment on my part. After all, I made a $1,000 profit from it!
Now, what about my research trip to Seattle last March? I flew out to visit my friend Hanif and study his collection of Iranicana so that I could write about the experience in my developing poetry collection (entitled…Iranicana). Even though the costs associated with that trip are legitimate business expenses, it’ll take me years to assess whether that investment will yield a measurable financial profit. It gets even trickier if we consider the intangible assets associated with the trip: the experience of traveling for research (which is a kind of practice), the new contacts I made in the art world, the artist friendships I strengthened, the creative writing time and place-based inspiration, the accumulated knowledge about the literacy community in Seattle which may or may not be useful in the future… A lot of the decision making that went into this investment was based on intuition.
Also, um, the trip was fun—really, really fun. And it can sometimes feel like cheating if work is fun. But work and fun are not antonyms. (They’re not synonyms either.)
TL;DR: Don’t feel guilty over investing in your writing because you get to have a good time.
5. I budget for and send out my writing.
The key word here is “budget.” My annual budget for submission fees is $100. This includes both regular submissions and contest submissions. Most submission fees are $2-4/each. Contests tend to be $10-25/each. I limit myself to 1-2 contests per year. I never go over budget—partly because I prioritize fee-free calls.
6. I also budget and apply for grants, fellowships, and residencies.
Similarly, I prioritize fee-free opportunities here too—but that doesn’t mean that I never apply for grants, fellowships, or residencies that require an application fee. It’s just crucial that I stick to a budget. (Currently my budget for these is $100—although, these days, I probably spend max $50/year). When I apply for residencies and fellowships, I only apply for opportunities that come with a check. (And if it comes with other opportunities, too, all the better.)
7. I pay for creative writing workshops.
I have a BA in English literature and an MFA in Creative Writing. The more I learn, the more I know how much there is to learn. Over time, my writing interests have expanded, and community creative writing centers have taught me so much. Some of my favorite creative writing workshops I’ve taken have been Freelance Going Pro through Hugo House and The Writing Life: Journaling with Kayleigh Shoen through Grub Street. These classes have contributed to the long-term sustainability of my writing practice both financially and creatively.
Want to learn more about creative writing workshops I offer? I have 3 more workshops coming up this fall (including one on submitting to literary markets — for free), and there are some surprises to come this winter/spring…
8. I work with writing coaches.
Did you know your therapist has a therapist? Well, your favorite writing coach has had her own writing coaches too. And, if I’m honest, writing coaching is something I’d like to invest in more frequently. Why? Writing coaching can help writers learn how to better manage creative blocks, nurture more sustainable writing routines, and take concrete steps toward their writing goals. Coaching can also help writers with the craft and business side of the writing life.
A few years ago, I worked with writer and editor Kristina Marie Darling through Penelope Coaching and Consulting on an application for the Creative Capital Grant. I didn’t get it—but I did make it past the first round. More importantly, the experience left me with a solid artist statement, project proposal, and budget, which served as a template for several additional grant applications I sent out (some of which I did get).
9. I spend money on marketing myself as a writer.
As soon as my first publications came out, I knew it was time to build a website (although I’d even argue that you don’t have to wait that long!). My website allows me some curation over my own artist narrative: I have written my own “About Me” section that includes a CV, and I provide links to the writing I feel represents me best. With the help of a grant, I have even worked with a digital marketing consultant to develop a page for writing coaching services. I always include my website in cover letters and on business cards, and it has often come up as the reason why a collaborator chose to reach out to me. Plus, grant, fellowship, and residency applications often ask to see a website as well.
10. I budget for self-care.
And I’m not talking about just bubble baths and candles (no shade to hydrotherapy and aromatherapy—I love you). In the past year, I’ve continued purchasing KN95 masks for travel, vitamins and supplements, and first-aid kit supplies (including heating patches for menstrual cramps on the go). I’ve also started buying tinted sunscreen (that I actually put on everyday), using an electric toothbrush (Late to the party, I know.), a lumbar support pillow (for long drives to residencies), and a foam roller (for back pain from my sedentary writing lifestyle).
If I’m not investing in my health, I’m not investing in my writing.
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I am able to make these investments in myself as a writer because I know what my overhead looks like: I know how much I need to pay myself each month in order to cover my basic needs and then some. I also know what my budget is for each business expense category both annually and monthly. If I can’t afford what I need in a certain season of my life, I seek alternate solutions: For example, I’ve applied for scholarships and grants to cover services, and sometimes I’ve bartered.
What investments, either monetarily or not, does your writing practice need in order to sustain you creatively and financially in the long-term?
