monetization monster: do you trick out all your gifts?

By laurasimms on April 10, 2012

print by jessica swift - click image for more info

I recently had a coaching session with a multi-talented client, and we were trying to rustle up some extra bucks to plump up her monthly income.

Being multi-talented, she had lots of skills she could potentially cash in on. “I could put my photos on stock imagery sites, do audio editing, be a guest lecturer at colleges…I could give tours on Maui!”

She came up with nearly a dozen things she enjoyed that could potentially become a source of income. Maybe you’ve made a similar mental list as well.

Given all of this opportunity, the real question is, “What do you NOT want to monetize?”

It took a long time for many of us to figure out that would could make money doing what we’re passionate about. Sometimes we get so swept up with this realization that we become monetization monsters looking for the penny behind every passion.

My advice: Save a little sumthin’ for mama.

You have a wealth of skills and talent; you don’t need to trick ‘em all out into dollars and cents. Keep some of your gifts out of the money mix and do them just because you love them. It’s generous.

And when it’s time to monetize? If you’re only drawing from a pot of pre-screened “I love to do this” stuff, it’s hard to go wrong. If it’s about making money, go where the money is. What will be easy? Sustainable? Able to grow?

In the comments, tell us: What do you choose not to monetize? And what’s it like to keep those goodies for the house?

Gathering light,

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About the Author


A career coach for creatives armed with the super power of hearing between the lines, Laura Simms helps passionate creatives discover and cultivate the work meant just for them. Once called a “momentum swashbuckler,” Laura puts the giddy-up in career transition and career strategy. Learn more at createasfolk.com.

reprise: bad artists copy. great artists steal.

By gwyn-michael on April 9, 2012

In light of recent posts about artistic license and copyright (Are We Pinning Yet? and More Pinning by Liz Kalloch), we thought we’d reprise Gwyn Michael’s post from June 2011 for yet another perspective.

For those not familiar, the title is actually a quote by Pablo Picasso and has to do with drawing inspiration from something while putting your touch on it. I guess he should know. Picasso is often attributed as the Father of Cubism when in reality he and Georges Braque worked together on the theory and were directly influenced by Cezanne, who had begun breaking up the picture plane in less abstract ways.

I have been sitting on this topic for some time now and a recent post from Bridget Pilloud brought it to the forefront. Bridget’s post is about outright stealing, using another’s content as one’s own. As a visual artist this is a sticky topic for me.

The thing is, I was accused of stealing from someone that used to be a friend. I had created some new photo collages based on an idea I had in college, after seeing her do something that reminded me of it. My images and hers were very different but both were made from buildings, different buildings (of course, no one has made art from buildings before). I credited her as an influence and she accused me of stealing outright. This, by the way, all happened on flickr where actual stealing is a regular event.

I don’t agree with her and I did not take it personally, but it made me think long and hard about how we are influenced. I could have turned it around and claimed she stole my college idea which was influenced by I don’t know what at that time. Instead I let it go, but the concept has been nagging me since.

What is originality in art?

In this age we are so bombarded with imagery (artistic and not), music, ideas, and plain old stuff that it is impossible for me to entertain the notion of true originality. That is not to say I can’t be uniquely creative in my interpretations, but that I have been influenced is not a question. The image above contains a painting by Piet Mondrian on the top left, one by Van Gogh top right, one of mine from 2003 bottom left, and a photo collage of mine from 2009. Trees all, but not the same, although there are comparisons one could make: the use of blue, red, and gold, the textural qualities, the patterns of branches. While I love Mondrian and Van Gogh’s trees, I can’t say I had either in mind when creating my trees, yet they are in my memory bank. My point is, how can we know how much is coming through as collective experience?

Is art simply a manifestation of memory?

Are “original” concepts simply the rearrangement of our perception of what we have seen, heard, felt, and experienced?

Seth Godin has this to say about originality:

I get two kinds of mail about this. One group points to organizations or individuals who are stealing my ideas. “Stop them!” they say. The other doesn’t hesitate to point out that I’ve never had an original idea in my life, and that I’m merely a promotional hack.

Now, more than ever, we can see the work an artist (in any medium, any endeavor) produces over time. If all an artist can do is steal, the truth will out. For the rest, though, a lifetime of consistent provocation, inspiration and generosity can’t help but shine through. Inspirations and all.

I think this is what Picasso means by “great artists steal.”

Great artists steal – they take the idea, theme or pattern and they make it their own. When you steal, you take away the whole thing – this particular idea no longer belongs to the original author. You take it apart, you figure out how it works and you put it together adding your own unique touches. Now it is yours and once you are done with it no one will even remember it used to belong to someone else. You started with something that was not yours, but the end product can no longer be called a copy, imitation or knock of because it stands on it’s own. You’ve successfully stolen something, and gotten away with it.
- Luke Maciak

If this is the case then why is it still such a sticky topic? In my case, I am not really concerned that my work will be copied. Posting everything I do on a website and elsewhere on the internet makes it unlikely it won’t be. Rather, it really upset me to be accused of stealing. I don’t know how one can clearly define the space between inspired work and out-right forgery. I like what Jim Jarmusch has to say:

Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent. And don’t bother concealing your thievery – celebrate it if you feel like it. In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: “It’s not where you take things from – it’s where you take them to.”
— Jim Jarmusch

I think I can agree that originality is obscure at best, at least in the way it has been defined. Perhaps a new definition of originality can be created? Or maybe we can agree that “All creative work is derivative” and just get on with creating our art?

What does originality in your work mean to you?

How do you incorporate influence, inspiration, and experience in your work in new ways?

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About the Author

Gwyn Michael is an artist armed with a camera, Photoshop, some painting supplies, and a discerning eye. She is passionate about creating images that teach us to view the world differently or more deeply. To learn more about Gwyn, her inspirational art, and her passion for creative living, visit her website and blog. Gwyn frequently gives mini tutorials on Photoshop and offers creative challenges on her blog.

cultivate your story

By Carrie Keplinger on April 6, 2012

This is a guest post by Victoria Prozan McGlinn.

The warm breezes of spring are here to herald in new seasons of growth and possibility. Ahhh. As the brown remnants of winter become obscured by the fresh greens and pinks and yellows and whites, take time to consider how we can mirror this rebirth in our own lives.

We all have a story. We actually have many stories. The story of who we are. The story of what we do and what we want. The story of how we got to this moment in our lives. The story of what limits us. Humans communicate through storytelling. The well spun tale is one of the most powerful tools we people carry. It’s how we grow, learn, and explore. It’s crucial to our world.

What happens when those stories, our stories, hold us back instead of propel us forward? What happens when we get stuck in our story? The assumption we make is that these scripts are 100% correct each and every time we recite them, without fail.

Wait, what? They’re not? Sometimes, not.

I got stuck in my story of being a Designer and Maker.

Those capital letters on the titles were my trap. Let me explain.

As a lifelong crafter, raised by parents who also were makers, I decided to pursue making as my life’s ambition. To strengthen my skills, I completed a graphic design degree. I worked hard to earn that degree and after years of investing my time, energy, and money, I launched my business. I was officially a Designer! I screen printed my original designs on paper goods and textiles, mostly the latter. Tea towels, pillows, table runners, note cards and prints. I love making. I love designing. This was the path to the life I had always wanted. Or so I told myself.

As time passed, I could feel something wasn’t quite right. I enjoyed most aspects of what I was doing, but nothing ever felt in sync. I assumed it was because I wasn’t pushing myself enough. I just needed to get over the next hurdle (there is away a next hurdle) and then all would flow in harmony. No matter how I pushed or pulled or manipulated myself, that nagging feeling never waned. I’m a confident and capable designer, I was receiving lots of encouraging feedback, but there was always the wonder of what was missing. It just wasn’t adding up.

I began to unravel my ball of yarn. Many of the pieces and parts were right. Design? Love it, check. Making? Love it, check. Business? Love it, check. Motivation? Um, I’m not sure, I’ll have to get back to you on that.

I began to admit to myself my motivations were out of whack with my authentic self.

I was trying to be a Designer and a Maker (there’s those pesky capital letters again) when what I really wanted was to be a designer and maker.

What’s the difference? The means vs. the ends. My ego wanted my designs be my thing, but only if I got lots of external praise and appreciation. My inner vision wanted helping people to grow to be my thing, with no strings attached. My ambition to be a cool kid designer was not my authentic self. My internal “should” following this path was messing with my program, big time. I was more focused on what I was creating than why I was creating it.

When I was able to see that being a Designer was just a story I told myself over and over, I began to rewrite my story. My focus shifted from my business supporting my design and making to design and making supporting my business.

I pulled in more parts of me. I could see that my years of client relations experience was a valuable strength that I had discounted through yet another story I convinced myself to believe. All of me would be required to make my goals. I now use the entirety of my skills and talents in the pursuit of an even bigger passion of mine. To demonstrate that interconnectedness and empathy in our business and personal lives will create a kinder, more just world.

I dropped my tunnel vision by realizing my design skills and creative talents are the engine that will drive my authentic voice to where I am needed.

So I have a new story. One rooted in soul searching and authentic offerings.

Whatever story you write, read, and believe for yourself, challenge it to be sure it’s true.

And if you find your stories aren’t supporting you in the everyday and in the big picture, craft new ones.

Spring is a time for change. Use the energy of the season to weed out the discord and pain, then plant new seeds of hope, ambition, and kindness.

Plant with love.

- – -

victoria prozan mcglinnVictoria Prozan McGlinn knows imagination is your superpower. Through it, creativity and empathy are born. She works with businesses to elevate empathy as tool of unlimited change. Find more about her mission here. Say hi on Twitter or Facebook and then unleash your imagination!

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About the Author

Carrie is Scoutie Girl’s advertising manager & assistant editor. She owns a graphic design & ebook editing biz and also runs a nifty crochet pattern shop for discriminating ladies, likeclochework.

The Unplugging Bug

By maeg-yosef on April 5, 2012

Unplug sunday

A disproportionate number of conversations in our home start like this:

Me: “Honey, I heard the most amazing TED talk today!” (or podcast, audio book, interview, etc.)

My Honey: “Oh. Really?” as he subtly backs away, looking for an escape route from the onslaught of unrelated but fascinating facts, stories, and anecdotes that is sure to follow.

Now, let me be clear: my husband is a good listener. The best, in fact.

I’m quite the listener myself. I am constantly taking in information. Absorbing input. Learning and listening while I work and go about my day.

I can tell you the best time of your cycle to ask for a raise (ovulation – your communication is at its best), I can lay out a zillion different (and conflicting) Twitter strategies that I’ve never implemented, and I can tell you more than you care to know about the differences between the right and left hemispheres of your brain.

It’s not just what I listen to. It’s piles of books, magazines, and my Google reader. It’s emails from friends and readers. It’s beyond words – as an artist, I’m also constantly taking in visual work by others.

I’m a sucker for output, too. My hand compulsively reaches for my phone to Instagram every sweet moment of my life (I have a two year old, so there are many). I write. I draw. I paint. I’m in constant real life conversation with my loved ones.

I love learning, and I love making connections with other people, in real life and online. There’s nothing quite like hearing that something I’ve written or drawn has made someone else’s day better. And there’s nothing quite like discovering something that brings a tiny epiphany to my brain.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with input and output.

But there is just one thing missing from all of this.

Silence.

Space.

Room for fresh ideas to be planted and grow.

Earlier this year I began unplugging for one day a week. No phone or internet or Netflix-streaming. No input or output outside of ‘real life.’ It required some planning each week, but it’s been so worth it.

I’ve got the unplugging bug. I want more.

Because I’ve realized that it’s not just about the technology. It’s about the information. It’s about the chatter.

It’s about having the same deep conversation every few days with my husband about the certain changes I’d like to create in my life, without getting any further clarity about how to sort them out and implement them. Because talking will only get me so far. There’s no space for the answers to come forth.

It’s about taking in more business or personal development information than I could possibly implement, from more business or personal development gurus than I could possibly name.

It’s about not taking time to examine my trajectories in life. Am I acting out of pure momentum and habit, or am I acting out of deep, unadulterated desire?

I’m on a quest for quiet. More space for the unknown to appear. Dialing down the earbuds, the stack of books, the screens, the email, and even (heavens!) the Instagram.

I think this has implications for my creativity – and yours – on all levels. Life, work, art.

Outside the sphere of anyone’s influence, what is important to us?

What does our work look like if we are not creating for anyone but ourselves?

What dreams do we not even know we had…if we have some space to dream them?

What thoughts emerge if we take a break from imbibing other people’s thinking?

What comes from a day unplugged and unfettered by chatter?

How does a sweet moment feel if we don’t record it?

What’s does completely free, wordless, and quiet time feel like?

This is my experiment. Does it speak to you?

How do you create space in your life for your own deep thoughts and voice (or total wordlessness!) to appear?

xxoo Maeg

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About the Author

Maeg Yosef is an artist, illustrator, and writer living in the Happy Valley of Western MA with her husband, stepdaughter, and son. You can find her writing about art-making, kid-raising, and creative living on her blog,
Edison Rex, and see her artwork here. When she’s not working to inspire you through her writing or bring you joy by putting art on your walls, you’ll probably find her up way too early, drinking way too much green tea, and attempting a wild new yoga position. Or maybe just on Twitter or Facebook.

The Balance: Creativity vs Drudgery

By jessvanden on April 4, 2012

Click to see more - image by Flourish Cafe

Every worthwhile accomplishment, big or small, has its states of drudgery and triumph; a beginning, a struggle, and a victory.
~ Gandhi

Now, running a business is certainly not on the same level as liberating a country, but Ghandi’s statement still rings true for me in the context of my creative business journey.

If you’ve been in business for any length of time, you will have discovered that there is a WHOLE lot more ‘drudgery’ involved that you first thought. Drudgery being endless email, admin, stocktaking, organizing, packing… and even, perhaps, the actual making of your products. Now, I get a lot of satisfaction out of the business side of what I do – learning new skills and techniques, etc. – so it’s not the business ‘stuff’ per se that is drudgery, it’s more the repetitive tasks that hold no challenge. I’m a bit Gen Y like that – I like being challenged to learn new things constantly, and get bored if that’s not happening.

I designed my Epheriell range so that almost every piece I sell is remakeable. On one hand, this saves me an immense amount of drudgery – the photographing, editing, writing descriptions, tagging – because when something sells, all I have to do is hit the ‘relist’ button (or, nothing at all on my own site).

However, when you’re making the same pair of earrings for the 234th time, a certain sense of drudgery is certainly present.

I’m going to make a pretty solid assumption here: You got into your business because you loved creating things.

You love working with your materials to create something new and challenging. That’s where we feel the buzz, the satisfaction of creation, when it all works out and voila, we’ve brought something new into being.

However, the day-to-day business of, well, business involves an awful lot of non-creative tasks that are unavoidable. Sometimes, it gets to the point where we feel that we are doing nothing BUT these unavoidable non-creative tasks. And that just sucks the joy out of it all, doesn’t it?

The only way around this that I have found is to deliberately carve out ‘creative time.’

This is time where we set aside those ever-present ‘to-dos’ and just allow ourselves the space to create. The way I do this with my jewellery business is to release collections twice a year – kinda like the fashion houses do. This means I am forced to be creative! I have to come up with a coherent range of pieces, make them, perfect them, and then share them with the world.

This process satisfies my creative needs, and reminds me why I started my business in the first place: because I loved creating!

Do you find it a struggle to balance drudgery & creativity in your business? How do you deal with it?

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About the Author

jess van denJess Van Den is extremely passionate and passionately extreme about crafting a creative life, and all things handmade and vintage! When not blogging at Epheriell Designs, she’s making jewellery, editing *bespoke* zine, hanging out on twitter – or possibly doing all of these things at once.

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