Lessons in Living the Creative Life

When I was a young student at San Diego State, my creative writing professor, Dr. Sanderlin, asked me what I wanted to do for a living.

“Write,” I said.

He studied me for a moment. Then he said gently, “Yeah, but what do you want to do for a living?”

At the time, I didn’t understand. He explained that even though he was published in The Saturday Evening Post every few weeks — an achievement that seemed like the height of success to me — it wasn’t enough. “Why do you think I teach?” he said. “I love teaching, so I’m lucky. But I live in Southern California. $1,500 every six weeks might work in for a single guy in Lorain, Ohio, but not in San Diego with a wife, three kids, and a swimming pool.”

Later, Robert Wilder told me something similar. Wilder was a successful novelist, but he didn’t pretend the royalties kept him in an oceanfront La Jolla home. “I don’t live here on my books, Son,” he said. “Movie rights to those books bought this house.”

And years afterward, Gordon Jump, the actor from “WKRP in Cincinnati,” echoed the same point. We were both teaching continuing education classes — he in voice-over, me in creative photography — while I was also working at a newspaper. He laughed and said, “Maybe one percent of SAG actors live on acting.”

It wasn’t just the big names. A colleague of mine — a successful “more-than-an-extra” with some forty film credits — worked in the same department as me as a building inspector for the County of San Diego while I was employed on the County newsletter. As a full-time actor, he had been a divorced alcoholic. As a carpenter and building inspector, he was married and sober for twenty years. Movies on one hand, steady work on the other. That was the reality. And his savior.

Different men. Different careers. Same lesson: very few people in the arts live on the art alone. Writing, acting, painting — the dream may fuel you, but the living usually comes from teaching, options, or steady work elsewhere.
And yet those lessons never discouraged me. They grounded me. They made clear what so many learn the hard way: you create because you must, not because it pays.

I worked for newspapers, both writing and in photography, and taught both in colleges and seminars. When those newspaper jobs went away, I freelanced and continued teaching, not only to support my art, but because I thoroughly enjoyed it. Then many of the community college jobs ended, due to budget cuts. I moved on to private art schools and adult continuing education gigs at local libraries and community centers. I’m still there, in many different classrooms.

Dr. Sanderlin was right. Robert Wilder was right. Gordon Jump and my colleague were right. The art is the passion. The paycheck comes elsewhere.

And in the end, maybe that’s how it should be. The work pays for the life, and the art pays for the soul.

 

Dale Scherfling is newspaper veteran of 30 years, serving as a sportswriter, columnist, editor and photographer and a retired Navy journalist and photographer. His work has been accepted by Third Act Magazine, Yellow Mama, Close to the Bone, Flash Phantom, Does it Have Pockets Magazine, Lost Blonde Literary, All Hands Magazine, Pacific Crossroads, Daily Californian, Naval Aviation Magazine, Propeller Magazine, and Buckeye Guard Magazine. He is the recipient of three U.S. Army Front Page Journalism Awards. He is also a college lecturer and photojournalism, photography and music instructor.