I jumped through all the right hoops. I did well in school, moved countries for a better education at university (as if), went through the whole work-experience–internship–first-job madness, and volunteered here and there until I almost burnt out. All for the sake of the great CV that I now have.
And hooray! I’ve done it all. It’s your turn now to enjoy the crazy ride. A couple of years down the line, I can finally focus on doing my job well, loving it as much as it is possible at this stage, and saving, travelling, or whatever us millennials dream of doing.
Tricked you into believing all that? It’s what life should all be like after completing the cycle, settling into a job and starting to build a life, isn’t it? Not in the creative industries. They represent are the tenth circle of hell Dante forgot to mention, probably because he was a creative too and had their back.
I studied journalism and became interested in publishing in my final year of university, after attending the Society of Young Publishers’ conference in 2013. Whoa, I thought, I LOVE this! The world of books was where I could see myself, only that so did many, many, many, many, many others. And the numbers are the main reason why the object of my affection has failed me.
(And my name, I imagine. A foreigner wants to be an editorial assistant? the seasoned editor must be thinking – over a cup of coffee from Pret, while slowly pushing my CV towards the rejection pile.)
Teacher shortages in England are growing and the government has missed recruitment targets for 4 years. In the meantime, when I apply for a fancy job such as Content Assistant I get rejected automatically just because there are over 300 applicants. It goes up to 1000 for the really good jobs, the agent reassuringly tells me over the phone. KEEP APPLYING.
The NHS will experience a chronic shortage of nurses within the next three years, while demand for services continues. At the other end, my dream entry-level job pays nothing and doesn’t come with a permanent contract, because there are literally hundreds (it goes up to 1000, arite?) waiting in line for it. Why should the employer bother? Judging by the numbers of youngsters with John-Lennon-rose-tinted-glasses trying to break into the creative industries, it may as well be all work and no pay.
Recent studies have shown that a month of internship in London costs a student or recent grad £935 per month. That’s nearly £1000 spent on existing , really, because as an intern life is pretty boring due to the lack of money. The new skills added to your CV are usually just things you’ve overheard your supervisor say are important in an office for 20 days, before you’re escorted out, where the others have already queued up. And there you go, knocking on yet another door…
Once you’re back to square one, good luck. You are now as good as an inexperienced recent grad in the eyes of potential employers, assuming they get to lay their eyes on you in the first place and you’re not too far back in the queue. But really, the reason for it is that they didn’t even get to your CV before they found the right person (with a CV identical to yours.)
The number of applicants for any given creative role means that a) there are at least 156 people with the same skills as you, b) there are at least 83 people with prettier, tidier, something-er CVs than you, and c) if you’ve made it to the interview phase, there are at least 19 people with better interpersonal skills than you. The ex-potential employer then proceeds to wish you the best of luck and let you know that you were fab. Only that, you know, there were at least 5 people a hell of a lot more fab.
If you do make it in, know that a first job in the creative world usually means that you are put on a temporary contract that will probably be renewed; if it weren’t in the creative world, that is. I know somebody (with a foreign-sounding name, of course) who hasn’t worked for longer than 5 months in a row in 3 years. Sure, you might also make it. Isn’t it beautifully exciting to gamble with your future like that?
The creative industries are overpopulated, and for no good reason. Look, an office job is an office job. Whether you market/design/admin books or microwaves, the 9 to 5 will be the same after the first couple of weeks. Books are nicer, but you need more than nice from life. To make it big it takes a lot, and a lot of luck. If you have a safety net then by all means keep chasing those dreams baby girl, but if you don’t, know that you probably can’t afford to. Sorry. It’s better that I tell you. It feels a lot uglier when your overworked family does. Go do some proper work in a proper industry and come back later with some freelancing experience under your belt if you must, but until then, don’t be naive.
The thing to keep in mind is that on the artsy side of life the staff is treated as little more than disposable machinery — because, hello, look at the numbers. You kind of are disposable, and it’s your fault for wanting to work such jobs only. It takes guts to wake up and accept that the world has let you down and doesn’t owe you anything, but eventually you’re forced to. Yes, the people you work with will be more educated and have more refined taste, but at the end of the day it’s still work and they’re still people. And they might not like you, or they might like one of the other 820 cool kids following-up with them (from outside the building) better.
I’ve recently met someone who lost her job in marketing at the well-known charitable trust Amnesty because she made a mistake over email. They were confident about replacing her because the job was wanted by lots and the perfectionist they wanted would come along. They also didn’t care about losing staff they had invested time, energy and resources in. She was as good as any, and any was as good as her.Things to take from here, then: 1) She can do her job somewhere else, where they actually value their employees and help them train, grow & improve. 2) She really hates Amnesty now. Despite their lovely motto. Way to kill one’s passion and faith in humanity — and charity.
As for me, I’m leaving the world of fairies and unicorns to take a job in a more grounded industry. I won’t be seeing beautiful covers smiling at me from the shelves in the morning, but I will be seeing decency, humanity, and stability. And there won’t be as many throwing pebbles at the windows when I’m not looking, because they’ll all be queued up at other doors. Suits me. I only wish I’d known this sooner. I would have read all the delicious novels without a care in the world, while gaining some good damn practical skills for a here-to-stay kind of job. And I could have easily avoided all the drama.
I’m slowly but surely regaining my creativity, my love for books, and my love for writing; can you tell? Winston Churchill, when asked to cut arts funding to help the war effort, said ‘Then what are we fighting for?’ Art might not be what makes the world go round, but it surely makes it worthwhile to keep spinning it. I live for books and films and imaginative, heart-warming storytelling, and this will never die inside me. Unless, of course, I keep tilting at windmills in the publishing industry. Then it’s sure to die in 2–5 years.
Let’s not fool ourselves. Creativity is a luxury, one that we can’t afford when we are constantly stressed about whether or not they’ll cancel our internships or we’ll be losing our jobs. Whoever says they can make art while hungry, broke and unemployed – and are over 21 – does not have my respect and admiration. My values have changed tremendously lately and my opinions might be unpopular, especially if you are under 21, or have a safety net, or a strong will coupled with an overworked family, but to those who hear me out: Live well. Art will follow.
(Or don’t, and it will leave anyway.)
Something on your mind?