Doing it for the Love of the Game
Who needs earthly possessions anyways? – ramblings of a mysteriously funded creative
You’re doing so well! I have friends and acquaintances who exclaim when we catch up at parties. You’ve had such a good year! People comment as they keep up with my life via social media. Travelling and partying “for work” and writing whatever I want. As my friends complain about their “soul-crushing” corporate jobs, I try to seem grateful that at least I’m doing something fun (never mind the fact that, at least so far, fun doesn’t pay very well). I lean into the jokes; it’s what I do best. My brother tells me to keep the “looking for work” banner on my LinkedIn profile, as being unemployed has lowkey become a core pillar of my personal brand. “Mysteriously Funded Creative” quickly becomes my favourite moniker.
Creative Ways of Explaining What I Do
I’ve cycled through every possible description and have trained my fellow fresh grads and unemployed friends in the process. I’ve lived through the early stages of funemployement (when the newfound freedom is exciting and you’re trying to make the most of it as you’ll probably be corporately employed in no time), the “waiting to graduate” months between submitting your thesis and picking up your diploma, the questioning of how long you can call yourself a “fresh grad”. I’ve made my lack of a job everybody’s problem (which has started to pay off as friends and friends-of-friends have started to reach out to me whenever their companies were hiring, kindly offering to review my CV and cover letter and put in a good word with the hiring team). Last month, I travelled home with my best friend to spend Thanksgiving with her family. I was meeting her parents for the first time (and had briefly, drunkenly, encountered both of her brothers at the occasional house party, but I doubt that counts), and I was, for the most part, excited. I tend to do pretty well with adults. I can talk to a brick wall, and I was already a fan of their work (Gio is one of my favourite people in the whole world, and after meeting her siblings, I’m convinced her parents could choose the path of early retirement and make a fortune selling an online parenting course). I had a weekend of meeting new people lined up, which in normal circumstances would be one of my favourite activities, but after the past year, it had quickly become my idea of a personal hell. I no longer felt charming or interesting, and dreaded having to explain what I was doing with my life, convinced that my personal judgment of my current situation was mirrored by whoever was sitting across from me. As I was introduced to her family, family friends and classmates from school, I was grateful for at least having something to show for the past year, and I proceeded to plug this newsletter at the breakfast, lunch and dinner tables with varying levels of success. I had to backtrack and explain that, no, I haven’t published a book (yet?) and “Culture Writer” mostly means talking about books, films, music and airing out my personal qualms on the internet. I was reminded of the time my aeroplane seatmate misunderstood my one hundred subscribers on Substack for one hundred thousand (I didn’t have the heart to correct this sweet old man, and he said he’d recommend my stuff to his granddaughter, so if you’re reading this, thanks!)
Running a Non-Profit and sucking up to Patrons of the Arts
I have recently realised that my close friends don’t find me nearly as funny as new acquaintances do. The reason for that is plain and simple: I have a tendency to recycle good material. The first time you drop an expertly timed “toughest battles, strongest soldiers,” you will most likely get an excellent response, but the positive feedback dwindles as it becomes a recurring joke. Like any good comic (though I’m yet to meet one in real life, but I’ve been told this is how it goes), I believe in testing jokes, adapting your content for the audience, and perfecting your comedic timing. I will always deliver the punchline, and have made my peace with it sometimes falling flat. I’ve taken to saying I run a non-profit when describing my field of work. My parents can now proudly state that they are patrons of the arts (unfortunately, my landlord does not accept advanced copies of the hottest upcoming novels as payment for rent). Whenever my brother comes into town, I tell him he’s doing the lord’s work and redistributing wealth as he puts down his card to cover dinner. We’re quite a pair catching up on work. He spends most of his days talking to clients at big banks and looking at a dark screen with indecipherable lines of code. I make sure I’m up to date with pop culture references and rehash the gossip going around my increasingly incestuous social circles1. He’ll send a picture of his new grown-up purchases on the family group chat (think nice rugs, a new couch, a surround sound system), and I make the most of my leisurely work schedule, snapping a picture of the latest books delivered at my doorstep or whatever friend has joined me for a weeknight drink at Café Kick. When promoting my newsletter, I employ a range of different approaches, and if my Master’s in Marketing taught me anything, it’s the importance of knowing your audience. When I meet a girl who is cool and intimidating in equal parts, and I’m itching to befriend her, I let her know that all the hot girls are reading Novis Newsletter. When I meet lanky guys with a chain, moustache and bad tattoos (what was once my kryptonite but I’ve changed my ways), or get chatting to someone with a quarter-zip in line at the pub (the guys at the The Drayton Arms are responsible for 80% of my financial literacy), I ask them if they have girlfriends or sisters and tell them to spread the word.
The Quest for a Sexy Job
At this point, anyone I’ve encountered this past year is well aware of my quest for any job. As a professional chatterbox and someone who loves asking for advice, I have taken to exploring the realm of Sexy Jobs, and in the process, have reached out to the people with the coolest job descriptions in my contacts list. I’ve slowly shed my layers of cynicism and have come to accept that it is not childish or naïve to want to do something that makes you happy. Somewhere along the way of growing up, I had convinced myself that following your dreams was the stuff of fairy tales, something to outgrow as you mature. Of course, there are still practicalities to be considered; the burdens of adulthood, bills to pay, health insurance and an alluring cycle-to-work scheme, but the more I spoke to people who truly loved what they did, the more I was inspired to find a way to make it work. Falling [back] into writing this year felt like Kismet. I was lost and bored, and doing one of the few things I felt good at made me feel like myself again. I was dipping my toes into an industry that is famously portrayed as bitchy and cutthroat, and was expecting grown-up mean girls working in glossy magazines or influencing. Instead, I was pleasantly surprised by how welcome I was. I’m naturally unable to curb my enthusiasm. I said yes to everything, reached out, slid into DMs, asked people out for coffee and treated strangers like intimate friends. I ignored the age-old advice of never mixing business and pleasure; I was genuinely connecting with people and couldn’t help wanting to befriend the girls I kept running into at work functions. Instead of being told that there weren’t enough seats at the table, I was invited to pull up a chair. I met people who inspired me, who showed me what I wanted, who dished out advice and introductions and didn’t roll their eyes when I asked stupid questions. I’m forever grateful to the girls in fur coats and slip dresses offering me skinny cigarettes and their phone numbers and their friendship.
My New Year’s Resolution is to Have Fun
Which sounds ridiculous even to me, but I’m rolling with it. I’m all for doing the things that scare you (I was very frightened for the majority of this year), and a lot of growth can come from that, but I think there’s also so much to be learned by chasing the good feelings. I’m still in the process of figuring things out, and I have a feeling I’ll be doing that for a long time, so I figure I might as well enjoy the process.
I have quickly realised that in this city, everyone knows everyone (or at least knows someone who knows everyone) — I thought this was a symptom of my student circles, but I guess you can’t escape it
You are “the fun” ❤️
eeee i loved this one