Art. Words. Money.

This post is a mess, because I don’t know what else it could be. What else could these ideally separate ideas be in a money-based society, where your worth is calculated by your ability to not only survive, but thrive? Where your value is economic above all else. Not to everyone, no, but to your government, your peers, not to mention the complete strangers who will judge you at a glance based on what you wear, drive, etc.

I hate it, and you probably hate it, too, but it’s true, so let’s move on to what this has to do with art.

First, this post was originally going to be a year-end numbers sharing as I try to ramp up my writing income via writing for various IPs (Intellectual Properties likes games) and a write-to-market pen name (spicy romance).

My 2025 writing income was in the mid 30Ks, if you’re interested. No, I’m not burnt out. No, I didn’t shatter my creative brain. I had a good time, learned new skills, unleashed. This year should get me more money. Yay.

Here’s the thing, though. The THING. I don’t talk about it much because quite frankly I can’t be bothered to receive other people’s unsolicited opinions on what’s “art” and if I’m a “sell out.”

I wrote over 650,000 words in 2025. Those are the published words, only. I keep finding new words that I’ve forgotten about, so I obviously need to work on my tracking, but this leads to around 5.3 cents per word. This doesn’t include the writing I did that wasn’t published, which is a bunch more words.

Okay, so I said I wasn’t going to share numbers, but there they are.

I tried to make money and I did a decent job at it.

Wait. Let’s pause. Here’s the context of my life, in case you don’t know: I have a very supportive partner and family, a circle of writing friends, two parents with dementia who need lots of support, and four cats I simply must hug regularly. They demand it.

I have kept a couple of freelance clients that take up about twenty to forty hours per month. The rest I let go, even though I loved them. But we’re all beings of limited time, so choices had to be made.

I am chair of Can*Con, currently Canada’s biggest literary spec fic con. It’s a volunteer-run non-profit, so that’s no moolah, just lots and lots of work, but I would put my limited funds down on the fact that I have the best crew in con-verse, so we work hard but also have fun and support each other.

I also read, do puzzles, play games with friends, have regular coffees with BFFs, and just try to live a balanced life, whatever the heck that means.

Now that you know where I’m coming from, back to this art and money question. I don’t know how to make this cohesive except with headers, so here we go:

Art doesn’t need to target money
You can write for fun. In fact, you should write for fun. It’s how you learn and grow. Not every work will be published. Don’t worry about that—just write your stories. Don’t put stress of money on those stories. I worked as a freelance event manager and copywriter for years so I could keep the act of writing separate from income. That gave writing the chance to breathe, and for me to learn a lot about crafting stories.

There is no guarantee of money
There’s a hell of a truth. Publishers have lots of duds. Your book might not sell. If you decide to self publish, a road I personally enjoy, that might not sell, either. There’s no silver bullet. Editorial and reader tastes change, and you might not ride the right wave. I’m not trying to be harsh, just realistic.

You CAN make money
But probably not writing your soul book. It might break out, or it might not. If you want to make money, then target things that are more likely to find readership, though never guaranteed to make money. For me, that’s IP writing and writing-to-market in a hot steamy romance subgenre. I enjoy both of those, but if I was rich, I would write my own works only, yes. Because then I wouldn’t have to worry about money. But, as I need money and want to make it writing, I write books I know will make me money. Seems basic, but worth mentioning.

Writing for money does not cheapen your words
I’m gonna say it: That’s writer snobbery.  And we all think it, even me, because it’s so ingrained into writing advice and the “big names” who’ve already broken out (stop listening to them except for craft ideas. They wouldn’t even know how to launch their careers in this market). If you want to make money, you have to make peace with not caring about what others think. Heck, that’s just good advice for life, really.

Writing anything is good
If you’re copywriting, you’re learning clarity of message and wit. If you’re IP writing, you’re learning to create characters and situations that stand out in a pre-established world. (And since you can’t blow up that world, you’re learning about smaller stories, which is good.) If you’re writing newsletters, you’re learning how to grab readers so they don’t just bounce off right away. Any writing is good. It will make you a better writer.

Art and soul are still important
See, this is where this gets confusing, because I’m telling you that writing for money won’t cheapen your words, but also, and this is what I’m wrapping my head around: It might make you a more predictable writer. In 2025, I mostly wrote IP and to market, which are both formulaic. I don’t want to become a formulaic writer, so in 2026, I’ve instituted that I must write a short story a month. It can be as experimental as I want. Long, or short. Spec fic or literary. Prose or poetry! It doesn’t matter, as long as I’m flexing my voice. If it doesn’t publish, who cares. But once a month I will do this so that I don’t lose my ability to play with words. (I’m also planning my next soul book series! It’s gonna be so amazing to write…)

Art and craft aren’t quite the same thing (but don’t worry about it)
Smart folk have already discussed this, so I won’t rehash it here, but I’ll tell you this: Getting better at craft lets you express your art, and art allows you to master your craft. So don’t worry about it too much, because they’re interconnected, like you need both the engineer and the architect to get that amazing building up.

Fear is a poor excuse and also a great motivator
See? Another one that doesn’t make sense. Letting the fear of what others will think, or the fear of failure stop you from writing is normal but also deeply silly. You’re assuming telepathy or clairvoyance. (Side note: I love psychic stories, so this would be cool, but alas.)  We’re community creatures and want to avoid being cast aside by making a wrong move. Screw that noise—move your way. You’ll find your people. I use fear as a motivator, because I’m terrified of getting to the end of my life and looking back and seeing all the things I didn’t do. There will always be regrets, of course, since I’m very imaginative and wow the things I could have done if I had 5000 lives. When I look back, one of the things I really don’t want to see is a wasteland of stories. Of TV watched instead of stories written. This might not work for you, but it does for me. Find a motivation that works for you.

The best thing I trained myself to do is…
From 2001 to 2014, I worked 9-5 jobs (which were killing me slowly). Every morning, I vowed to do the most important thing in my day first: Write. So I would get up stupid early, get on a bus, be at the coffee shop near work as it opened, and would write for an hour to an hour and a half. It was easier before Wi-Fi was everywhere, but I was an early adopter of the Freedom App, which helped me fight distractions. I would sit, with just my laptop, block the internet, put my earphones in, and write. To this day, when I put in earphones, it signals to my brain that it’s writing time, even if my music isn’t on. It doesn’t mean getting words down isn’t a struggle. The world is fighting harder and harder for our attention, after all. And that brings me to my last point…

My main job is not writing
It should be, right? Like, I write for a living. Sometimes two books a month! I used to see my main job as writing, but I don’t anymore. My main job is fighting for my focus. Because everyone and everything is trying to steal it. And they’re often successful! I just spent New Year’s day on Lydia M. Hawke’s couch and deleted a bunch of apps from my phone as we discussed this subject. Because I don’t want to be a slave to someone’s money making machine. I want to write. To do that, I need to preserve brain space and focus. So that’s my main job. And then sitting down and focusing on words.

So how does that help you with art, money, craft, and writing as a viable career option? It does, and it doesn’t. It’s messy. There’s no clear path. You have to be nimble, and adaptive, and quick, and unleash your creativity. You have to be on time. Friendly. You have to always feel like you’re behind and failing, in everything else but the writing (but, also, often, failing in the writing, too). You have to learn to say no. And to not care about what others think, while caring deeply, so deeply that you can share parts of humanity that resonate with readers.

Holy crap, that’s a tall order, isn’t it? Ya, kinda, but most of these skills are useful in most of life. So there’s that.

It took me two decades to make close to a living wage from writing. I will keep working at it, and we’ll see how it goes.

Here’s the thing, though. I get to wake up, every day, and write stories. I get to imagine different lives, events, philosophies. I get to read books and analyze them. To jump into other people’s worlds and learn all the cool things about them. To see cover art that someone created from my ideas. To unleash my creativity.

It’s not easy, I won’t lie to you. I work long days. Sometimes, I feel like I’ve bled out my emotions in my writing, which can help or be detrimental in my caretaking duties. It doesn’t matter. I don’t know. I can’t see the future. Some days, I barely grasp the present. Nothing is perfect. Nothing will ever be perfect. All I have is this moment, and that’s all you have, too. Let’s just ride it, into story, into life, into whatever makes you happy. But ride it with purpose.

So, I guess that’s it.

If you want to write for a living, you’ll first have to learn to write. And to write when you don’t want to. You’ll have to work your job still, which sucks, or do freelance contracts. Capitalism demands its pound of flesh on a regular basis, after all. But as you grow as a writer, as you clarify where that money will come from, you’ll step more and more into your writing career, one small nudge at a time. I’ve been at it since 2014. I’m closer than ever. One small adjustment at a time. Sometimes a big one. But mostly small ones.

I’ve always wanted a long-term, sustainable career, so I took my time building it. Do I wish I’d have been one of those overnight success authors? Of course. But I placed my bets on the most likely scenario, built my career one step at a time, and I do not regret that, because the ground is steady beneath my feet.

So if you’re going to take one thing away from this, and if you want to live from your writings, then learn to focus. That’s it. That’s all. It’s the most important skill you’ll ever develop. And the one that everyone is fighting the most to get, because your focus is making them money.

Use it to chase your stories, instead.