CraftyPod

While I re-assemble my shattered calendar, here’s a post from the now-retired Make & Meaning blog. Light some votive candles for the possibility of a new podcast this week, willya?

Image by jcolman, via Flickr

If you want to cross over from hobbyist maker to professional maker, I’m growing to believe that one simple question will get you there: “What’s in this for me?”

First, let’s dispel all the cultural stigma around that question. It doesn’t make you a grabby, selfish person. What it does make you is a person who evaluates opportunities well – and that’s a crucial business skill in the 21st century.

Here’s what I mean: when you’re new at the whole professional-maker game, and you’re trying to break in and get established, new opportunities can seem uniformly golden. The idea that someone has noticed you, and is inviting you to do something (contribute a piece, organize an event, participate in a panel discussion) – that’s exciting, right?

It is, as long as you first figure out what’s really in it for you.

Image by Peter E. Lee, via Flickr

Interestingly, we’re in an age where there’s an unprecedented amount of project-ing going on around us. Internet tools make it so easy for people to collaborate and take action, we have an explosion of independent efforts in progress – whether they’re indie magazines, conferences, community beautification efforts, websites, or anything else.

Not only that, the web makes it easier than ever for corporate entities to find you and get interested in your work. Build up enough of a presence on the web, and sooner or later they’ll come calling, too.

These are awesome, loaded-with-opportunity times. The only caveat is, your time and attention are limited. If you want to become a professional maker, you need to be able to invest both in ways that pay off for you.

So, when you’re invited to participate in any project, it pays to ask, “What’s in this for me?”

Image by D Sharon Pruitt, via Flickr

Sometimes, the what’s in it for you will be money. Sometimes, it’ll be a chance to speak directly to a whole new group of potential customers. Sometimes, it’ll be a chance to trade your skills for some product or service that’s valuable to you. When the return is this concrete, the opportunity is often a good bet.

Other times, the what’s in it for you won’t be as clear. Maybe you’ll be offered a vague promise of “exposure” with no concrete means of getting your business card into people’s hands. Maybe you’ll be offered “a chance to sell your work” with no concept of whether the audience is actually receptive. Maybe you’ll be offered the chance to have your logo on the program… along with a hundred others. When the value to you is fuzzy, the opportunity might be worth a pass.

Don’t be afraid to ask as many questions as you need to until you know for sure. Your time and energy are precious, no matter if you’re just starting out or a veteran professional maker. So don’t spend them unless you will benefit in some way. (Not “might benefit,” will benefit. I think a lot of rookies, myself included, tend to assume there will be “some kind of benefit” and plunge right in. And I’ve learned, more times than I care to admit, that this assuming can be a mistake.)

Image by kalleboo, via Flickr

I learned to ask this question later than I should have. I’ve spent hours writing free articles that few people read. I’ve spent money and days running free craft tables where nobody was interested in my flyers. Heck, I even blew several months organizing a craft show once, with no marketing benefit for my business at all.

If I had only asked “what’s in this for me? at the outset of these projects, I could have used all those hours much more profitably. (That’s not to say that all the people organizing these opportunities were out to bilk me. The fault was completely mine for not asking the question.)

It’s an important distinction between a hobbyist maker and a professional one: generally, the longer you strive to make your living from making, the more you grow to steward your time. From a business standpoint, it’s an absolute necessity that the effort you expend be balanced with some form of compensation. That compensation can take any form you want, but if it’s not there, you’re mostly fueling other people’s dreams.

(Is that a bad thing? Not at all. But will it also grow your career? And can you afford the time?)

Image by planeta, via Flickr

And as a sidebar, when you’re organizing your own professional projects, and you want to involve other people, what’s in it for them? becomes a crucial skill to have, too. When you’re inviting someone to give you their time and energy, if you can make it clear right up front what’s in it for them, you’ll immediately set yourself apart from so many others clamoring for time and attention.

What are your thoughts? How do you evaluate your opportunities? And what kinds of trouble have you gotten into by not asking, What’s in it for me?

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This is a post from the now-retired Make & Meaning blog – though I changed the title, as the original title was rather lame on second reflection.

Image by Tipiro, via Flickr Creative Commons

It’s true that you can declare yourself an artist (crafter, writer, etc.) anytime you want.

But if you want to become a professional maker (that is to say, get paid for what you make), then you’ll have to get some other people to declare you an artist as well – and consent to pay you for your work.

What’s interesting these days is that, if you want a third party to declare you a professional maker, you can take two distinct approaches:

Approach #1: The Corporate Gatekeeper

For decades, we’ve lived in a system where a small number of people or institutions had the power to decide which makers would become professionals. There were people who decided whether your manuscript would be published or not. People who decided whether your paintings could hang in galleries or not. People who chose whether the songs you wrote would be played on the radio – or not.

Image by Sam Javanrouh, via Flickr Creative Commons

Approach #2: The Fan Base

Nowadays, we’re watching the influence of these corporate gatekeepers wane, as a new breed of makers begins to do that deciding for themselves. Thanks to the internet, you can self-publish that manuscript. Build an online gallery of your paintings. Share your own music via MySpace. All this requires is the focus necessary to hike whatever learning curves you need to in order to make it happen.

But you do still have to face a kind of gatekeeper in order to be paid for these efforts – in fact, a whole slew of individual gatekeepers. Now, instead of appealing to an editor or a corporate buyer, you have to develop and appeal to an audience. And not just an audience of blank-faced consumers, but an audience (and a community) of true fans.

Image by Dawn M. Armfield, via Flickr Creative Commons

Pros and Cons

You might think I’m about to say that the corporate gatekeeper is somehow evil, while the fans are the best audience for a true artist. Well, not quite.

I certainly do think that, if you produce your own work and actively build your own fan community, you get to enjoy a deep connection to the handful of people who really “get” what you do. That’s pure gold to makers.

The downside is, you have to work very hard to keep this kind of professional making viable. You have to wear lots of hats. You have to earn your fans’ support every single day – but you also can’t ask your community for money over and over. You have to keep seeking more and more fans, and diversifying your business efforts – and if your work isn’t very mainstream, this may be an uphill path.

Image by Grant MacDonald, via Flickr Creative Commons

Those corporate gatekeepers, on the other hand, often control access to much bigger audiences. If you can connect with the right gatekeepers, and convince them you’re worth letting in, theoretically at least, you can make much more income. (In some creative industries, of course, you can spend years knocking on doors, trying to find a gatekeeper who’ll say yes.)

Also (in some cases), if you seek a corporate partnership, you might have someone to handle the business end of things so you can focus more on making.

The trade-off? Well, the larger the audience you can reach through a corporate partner, the more bland and mainstream your work may need to be in order to appeal. This may mean compromising your creative vision, and it may mean producing work you aren’t in love with in order to make a buck.

Image by ladyvee9, via Flickr Creative Commons

Which to choose?

So, which kind of audience is best for makers? I’d definitely say, both. And start by appealing to those fans.

If I have one new year’s wish for makers everywhere, it’s that sometime in 2010, you’ll try being your own producer at least once. You can start small, too – make a zine, record a video, or start a blog. Just produce something on your own, and don’t wait for some outside influence to tell you whether you’re good enough to do it. You’ll learn a ton in the process, and you’ll begin to step into the shoes of a real 21st century maker.

…But eventually, if you aspire to larger levels of income, you may need to learn to dance with those corporate gatekeepers, too.

If you make things professionally, I’d love to hear about your experiences. Which approach do you find most satisfying?

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