Gasp! by Laura Axelrod

The life of an NBC Page in the new economy

Felix Gilette of The New York Observer writes that the culture of NBC Pages has changed significantly since 2007.

"In recent days, The Observer spoke with a number of former pages who are trying to come to grips with the diminished opportunities in their chosen field. The jobs aren’t there anymore."

Read it through to the end and you'll find some astonishing insights, such as:

"According to one source, pages were regularly asked to keep an eye on their colleagues for possible infractions. 'It’s a culture of fear,' said the former page."

Maybe that NBC Page that Tracy Morgan punched out on last weekend's Saturday Night Live deserved it.

The World is Changing... Do You Feel It?

An article in the New York Daily News this morning by Richard Huff:

    "Before "Housewives," it was the goofiness of Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie flaunting their financial excesses in front of regular people. Given the current environment, watching someone spend without a care has lost its appeal."

This is exactly what I was referring to a few weeks ago. We are now looking at a tremendous cultural shift. I believe it will be somewhat similar to what took place around 1979-80.

If you remember the 70s, you'll know that culture focused on "the people." Television featured working class, regular folks contending with their daily lives in the face of a crazy bureaucracy. Barney Miller, for instance, showed cops who battled the system to do what they knew in their hearts was right. Their actions weren't held up as heroic. Instead, these characters were just common people doing what they knew was right.

For example, in an episode called "Asylum," Wojo takes on the State Department to grant asylum to a Soviet defector who happens to be gay. The bureaucratic regulations are nonsensical and it is up to Wojo and Barney to figure out a way around the rules. Inept government, bonding with others and breaking rules for humane purposes were common themes in that decade.

The Reagan Revolution changed all that. Suddenly there was a belief in American society that common folks could become upper class. Reagan's trickle down theory put the emphasis on the rich. Television, in turn, focused on how they lived. Shows such as Dynasty and Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous became commonplace. The cops in Miami Vice displayed wealth and style as they fought violent crime. Sitcoms such as Golden Girls and Growing Pains returned to domesticity. Rarely did these shows venture outside of their small, insular world.

We can now look forward to mainstream culture embracing very different themes. The following thoughts are my predictions on what our culture might look like soon. I'm going to provide the following thoughts with one caveat: no one truly knows for certain right now how this economic crisis will wind up. If it leads to other, more disastrous consequences such as civil unrest, then these themes will change.

1) A focus on "regular people." The average, working stiff  will begin to dominate storylines again. Some mainstream stories will attempt to pacify the deep rage which people are feeling about the economy, the bailout and the lack of consequences felt by Wall Street.

2) Traditional values will be recast. Previously, the words "traditional values" served as code words for conservatives. Either these words will take on new meaning, or there will be a new phrase to describe values such as personal responsibility, community, and courage. Teamwork will also be emphasized strongly. What you bring to your immediate community will have more value than ever before.

3) Tangibility. In direct contrast to an ethereal economy, it will be important to have tangible assets and strengths. In an environment where there is a growing lack of trust, you will either have to "put up or shut up." Think of it this way: Cash or credit. Which will be more valuable and trustworthy?

4) Escapism. People will want to take an hour or two away from troubles. However, they will not want to escape into a land where there are no challenges. Instead, we will see common folks overcoming tremendous odds and coming away victorious. Comedy will also play an important role. Instead of focusing on our own foibles, there will be plenty of satire and poking fun at authority. Needless to say, there will be a huge upsurge in comedy.

5) Globalism. This theme is a toss-up. A portion of our society will want to look towards globalism to save us and another will believe that globalism is the idea that got us into this mess. Either way, look for more discussion of the concept and themes on how "we're all in this together." There will also be a push to study history more closely, to look for clues to our current crisis.

6) Stories and ideas that search for a deeper meaning. People in religious communities will begin to concentrate on more esoteric aspects of their religions. Society's discussions of religion in the past have never really gotten past the "how many times do you go to church" question. Now, people who are religiously inclined will be forced to go deeper within themselves.

7) Frugality and "poverty chic" will be in style. Homesteading will become fashionable. (I guess moving to a country farm puts me ahead of the curve.)

8) You might think that rage and meanness will become commonplace, but I believe that this turn will also bring out a more gentle side of people. When they realize that everyone is feeling the effect of this downturn, there will be no need to blame your neighbor. But that doesn't mean people won't look for a scapegoat.

I think audio plays and local theater will become more popular, as people look for a more personal connection with culture. People will now look for an accurate mirror to their own life experiences. The key word here is "accurate." Since our mainstream culture has functioned like a fun house mirror maze, it will undoubtedly be difficult for some artists, writers and producers to make the shift. Look for new people to come to the forefront culturally. Like the 30s, those with unconventional theories will find a window to present their ideas on how to heal society.

The "sound" of the next few years may become quieter, as people look to create sanctuaries away from roar of their problems.

Again, much of this depends upon the idea that it's just an economic depression that we are facing. If something along the lines of civil unrest occurs, then these themes will undoubtedly change. In that case, we might be looking at the culture of 1968 again, with its loud volume and over-the-top absurdism.

These are just some of my thoughts on what this cultural shift might look like. If you have thoughts, I'd love to hear them.

How the World Sees Us

The more sugar you eat, the more sugar you crave.

Being an American is a conundrum. First you have the issue of our culture, with its rampant materialism and soullessness. As I've outlined already, we have our problems. Rather than creating art for patrons, we manufacture "work" for producers, who in turn, sell the work as their own to an audience with low expectations.

On the other hand, there's the rest of the world. They turn their nose up at Americans because we live in this culture. It appears that there's something wrong with American artists. We are inferior because of our environment.

If we focus our country's problems, we're too self-absorbed. If we apologize profusely to the rest of the world, we're groveling.

In May 2007, I dropped a note about a backlash towards American culture:

"But the thing that jumps out at me the most is that quote above. With the world mad at America, do you think American playwrights are feeling the pain? After all, in most European eyes, we’re the dummies who elected Bush.
Do you think there’s a backlash against American playwrights – in our own country? Do you think European political plays are preferred by American theaters?

And most importantly, do you think that as playwrights, we’re distancing ourselves from our identities as Americans because we’re appalled by current events?"

No one responded to the note at the time, which I found puzzling since our identities as Americans play a role in the art we create. American artists are either reinforcing the culture, commenting on it or rebelling against it. Our disposable culture encourages trashiness, and that is what other countries despise about America. Well, that and our "freedom."

With this in mind, it's difficult not to feel mixed about Nobel Prize Secretary Dr. Horace Engdahl comments on American literature.

"The U.S. is too isolated, too insular. They don't translate enough and don't really participate in the big dialogue of literature," Engdahl said. "That ignorance is restraining." According to the Associated Press interview, they are "too sensitive to trends in their own mass culture." 

Most of us naturally become defensive at these remarks. After all, we've been stuck in an age of Americanism. Our culture is our  biggest import... Besides our debt. Making the money crowd feel uncomfortable means no production, no success, no book and no recognition.

So the man might have a point. On the other hand, does Engdahl know that there is such a thing as American literature that is not limited by it's country's mainstream culture?

Does it already exist, or is it something we have to create from scratch?

 Rather than debating whether the Nobel Prize Secretary has read Oates, Updike, and Roth, I'd rather think about what such literature might look like. Hopefully it would be uniquely American and not an imitation of European culture.

Radically and Rapidly

In the comments on my entry, "You and the Needs of Your Audience," Jonathan wrote the following:

"I would argue that cultural relevance is, by it's very nature, directly tied to a choice by the artist to navigate in the same current which their audience swims - upstream, downstream, cross-current - those are up to the individual. Standing on shore as an artist, however, while others attempt to swim, float, or just keep from drowning is relevant to no one but the author and is narcisistic.

While I don't often comment on your posts Laura (this is my first, actually), I read them with interest. Cultural relevance, especially in America, among artists, is often seen as "selling out." One only needs to look at others who have "swam" in the currents of their audience before - Brecht, Boal, Ibsen, Shakespeare, etc. - to see that it is the very combination of the work they produced, for their unique audience, at their unique moment in history that makes it meaningful and gave it "wings" to last beyond it's time."

Great comments. I totally agree. This period of time, however difficult it is for our country, is a time of opportunity and empowerment. Through discussions with others in my daily life, I've learned that many others believe the same thing.

Perhaps it is now time to look at where our country's culture might go. What will our world look like a year, two years, five years from now? Most economists and pundits will tell you that there is no way to predict how this crisis will turn out. Whether McCain or Obama win the election, or if Bush suspends the elections, our culture is being redefined. Our values are changing, radically and rapidly.

What an exciting time to be an artist or writer.

You & the Needs of Your Audience

On the advice of a friend, I bought a ticket to the San Francisco Symphony's performance of "The Planets" by Gustav Holst. I remember wearing a little black dress and heels, which was unusual during my California days. As I took my side box seat at Davies Symphony Hall, I gave a brief glance to those around me. We were sitting in a bowl-like formation. I saw people on either side of me and I noticed that they, too, were wearing suits and dresses. I was glad I fit in with the crowd.

I don't remember much after that. I have a tendency to go deep within myself while listening to music, and the Symphony's rendition of The Planets put me in a trance-like state. At some point, I noticed that I came back to myself. The lights were dimmed, but I could still register the faces of the people surrounding me. They were no longer people who wore suits and dresses. There was no difference between us. I knew that when I died and looked back on my life, I would see this moment as being extraordinarily significant. We were one.

Some people might mistake my call for cultural relevance as an urging for agit-prop. Nothing could be further from the truth. It saddens me that there are those who would dismiss these essays with that response. It also would be very simple for the artist to dig a hole and hide from the undercurrent. Why sully yourself with ephemeral matters? Elections come and go; money is for someone else to understand.

Unfortunately, while you can wash your hands of these problems, your audience cannot. Instead of paying attention to your composition, their thoughts may drift back to their bank accounts. Will they be able to access their money? How are they going to justify buying tickets with these kind of money troubles?

Or perhaps they may even have a problem getting to the performance. With the bailout, the Washington Mutual bank failure and the debates taking over the headlines, perhaps you weren't aware of the southeast's gas shortage. Will there be more shortages like this in the future?

These are the concerns of your audience. Does it matter to you as an artist?

Whether or not we have a hand in directing the change coming to our country, make no mistake, cultural change is coming. The German Finance Minister has declared that the U.S. will no longer be a financial superpower. Treasury Secretary Henry Paulsen declared the prospect of a bailout "embarrassing." Our self-image as a country has already taken a big hit.

This is the stuff that cultural and societal change is made of. As I mentioned earlier, our culture serves as a mirror. If you would like to know the subconscious of America, watch Hollywood movie previews. What fears are we fighting? Is Mother Earth attacking our cities? Are the characters fighting the government winning or losing?

Our entertainment symbolizes our dreams and nightmares, which can easily be analyzed and decoded.

Cultural change is coming. It will happen because it has to happen. The needs of our audience are different now. However, we don't need to hammer them over the head with a message. We are artists, after all. We use a variety of methods to make our point, including tone and symbolism. Our culture has served the needs of others, with dire consequences. Now is the time for us to serve the public interest.

Our American Identity

This Is How We See Ourselves

In 1998, I was working at a nonprofit in San Francisco. An Irish guy, whose name I can't recall, was our temporary receptionist. On a slow day, we gathered near his desk to talk about Ireland and America.

He told us that Americans knew nothing about Ireland, but he knew everything about America. "I know McDonalds and Hollywood. That's America. But you don't know anything about me. Americans think Irish people walk around barefoot all day."

His perception of our country's culture has stuck with me ever since. It infuriated me.

At a sidewalk cafe in Montagnana, Italy in 2000, I chatted with a group of men who wanted to practice their English. "America... It's like Hollywood, right? It's like CNN."

No, I explained, it's not. There are average people in America. There are people who don't own fancy homes, who are just like you. We aren't all movie and television characters.

Like an anorexic who sees fat in the mirror, I believe that our country suffers from cultural distortion. Not only do we transmit an exaggerated view of ourselves to the world, we have lost sight of who we are to each other. Rather than looking for similiarities, we declare war on ourselves during every election cycle. Each side believes the other to be evil, mentally deficient, treasonous and scary. We have dehumanized "the other", stripping ourselves down to demographics. Rural versus Urban, North versus South, Democrat versus Republican.

Arguing is not the issue. This main question has to do with how we, as Americans perceive ourselves and how we, as artists see our country. It is larger than how we perceive our audience. It incorporates how we approach them. Do we declare war on them to "wake them up?" Do we comfort them and validate their status? Do we see ourselves as parasites, living off the scraps of mainstream society? Or have we quit on America entirely, turned our nose up and looked to other countries for "real culture?"

These are important questions that artists and writers must ask themselves. How we see each other, individually and as a whole, will determine our role in seeing this country through its troubles. Perhaps our work can even play a role in healing it.

But first, the artist and writer must determine if this country and its citizens are worth healing. Just about everyone uses American society as a scapegoat. Blamed for the sub-prime housing mess, the economic collapse and the budget deficit, we see ourselves as lazy, obese and spoiled. Is it any wonder we are also demoralized?

“Culture is the process by which a person becomes all that they were created capable of being," wrote Thomas Carlyle. With government confidence at historically low levels, it is vital that artists and writers step in to act as witnesses. We have the unique ability to remind people of their humanity. We don't need to be spokespeople for them. Instead, we can inspire people to lead themselves.

Economic instability is perilous for any country, and we don't want to travel further down a horrifying road. The stakes are high, but this is one way through which artists and writers can empower themselves and others during this challenging time.

(Next up: Another use for culture)

Where We Stand

This Is Where We Stand Right Now

As I write this, Lehman Brothers has filed bankruptcy. The 158-year old company that survived the Civil War has gone under. Bear Stearns was bailed out by the U.S. government. The American International Group has been told that they must raise 75 billion dollars by the end of today.

While artists and writers may not understand the nuances of these calamities, we would be wise to understand the effect they will have on our own lives and society at large. At Parabasis, Issac Butler describes the projects that Lehman Brothers was responsible for funding. The New York Sun delves into the matter, further outlining Lehman's past contributions to the arts.

It would be a mistake to limit the discussion to this angle alone. After all, the loss of jobs, homes and veritable institutions will have a tremendous effect on the psyche of the United States. Growing up in an enormous amount of abundance, we have never felt the sting of empty grocery store shelves. Americans have taken it for granted that we will have what we want, when we want it - and for a cheap price. If we don't have the money in our pocket, then we can use credit. We can buy things on the promise that we will pay for it - eventually.

Along with our material ease, we haven't experienced daily war battles on our land. Unlike other parts of the globe, citizens can expect to walk on grass without fear of being blown-up by landmines. Our wars are conducted on foreign soil.

With this history, it's easy to take stability for granted. In fact, most people can't imagine America without material comforts. This is the way it's always been; this is the way it will always be.

The American mythology is based upon the belief that if you work hard, you will succeed. If you haven't achieved material success, you are lazy, immoral and unintelligent. Rather than basing our definition of America on the Constitution, we pluck out a single phrase from the Declaration of Independence: "Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness."

This mythology has found it's way into the spiritual lives of Americans. Prosperity theology promises material abundance for the spiritually enlightened. In this case, poverty is not only a sign of bad character, it's also a sign that God isn't smiling on you.

Most writers and artists have fallen into this money hell. We've taken out enormous student loans to pay for our education, with little opportunity to pay them off by working in our chosen profession.

Some of us chose to be artists so we could rebel against this way of life. Yet, telling the truth means alienating an audience that is complicit in keeping this belief system alive.

Success as an artist in America means making your work palatable to the masses, who are sleepwalking their way through life. Waking them up is dangerous, and dangerous work is rarely produced, exhibited or published.

Success as an artist in America means making your rebellion slick and chic. Our materialism is insatiable. It looks for the newest trend. Rebellion is crucified until it can become safe to hang in the comfort of our own homes. It is disturbing until it is tamed.

Success as an artist in America is defined by the bottom line. Respect is given to those who can achieve the most sales.

In this environment, it is easy for an artist to become a reactor instead of an actor. Rather than shaping the culture - presenting a new vision - the artist comments upon her present circumstances. The commentary is cathartic for the artist, but it doesn't present any real solutions.

When this commentary is rejected by the system it is rebelling against, the artist can have a variety of reactions.

It may validate her feeling of disempowerment. But is it fair to ask a system to embrace commentary that is attempting to destroy it?

It may lead her to believe that being an artist in this system is about suffering. But is it fair to ask the artist to have a miserable life without any personal benefit?

This is where we stand right now. Our generation has created celebrities out of people who have no talent. We have funded our lifestyles with imaginary money. We watch scripted reality t.v. shows.

Our way of life is a lie.

We are bankrupt, and our system reflects it. A healthy society would not accept these lies. A healthy society does not need to be shielded from the truth. A healthy society would be allowed to see the coffins of its dead soldiers.

In understanding where we are going, we need to understand where we are presently. We need to understand that the physical bankruptcy of our system is a reflection of our bankruptcy as a people. We don't know who we are. We don't know our history. Our American identity is based on materialism and the promise of future comfort.

It's time for artists and writers to take back American culture.

(Next up: A Vision for Where We Could Go)

Markets and Roles

Matthew Freeman says that I sound "unnecessarily exasperated" about the lack of economic discussion among artists and writers. I could say that I don't mean to take people to task, but that wouldn't be honest.

But I will say that after I wrote the entry and went to bed, I thought about how it might be unfair for me to judge others by my values. For instance, we all have a different definition of what it means to be a writer or artist. Maybe for some people, it doesn't include understanding how society works.

It reminds me of numerous interviews I've read where the reporter asks the writer: "Why write?" The writer responds: "Because I like to tell stories."

For some people, that's it. For others, there's something more to the story.

In 2004, I made some misguided attempts at describing my values as a writer. Like other people who have attempted this kind of discussion, I ran into two problems. A) It was difficult to talk in absolutes and B) Others felt invalidated by the entire enterprise.

Saying what an artist "should be" leaves others to question if they are "the right kind" of artist.

Which is why I never made another attempt to describe my values or what I believe my role is as a writer.

Maybe it's time to open that discussion again...

Money and the Arts

For quite a while now, I've been writing about money and the arts. I warned about the pending economic crisis and wondered how it would affect my fellow artists. The response both on this blog and in my daily life was underwhelming.

It amazes me that my theater, literature and visual arts friends just don't want to hear it. This has the potential of being a generational-altering event; something that has been gathering steam for almost a year.

I'm not saying that we should come up with a public policy position on the matter. I'm talking about dealing with this problem both in our work and in our lives. There is a crude silence about something that is impacting millions of people world-wide. It's not going to clear up tomorrow.

It will affect you and your work. Something with this kind of impact will change our culture. It will alter the way society sees itself and the world.

Can we please be relevant for once?

Image and Reality

Normally an article like this would annoy me. Today's New York Times includes a story about how the rich are coping with these difficult times. "It's Not So Easy Being Less Rich," the title tells us. The theme of the story is how the rich are trying to keep up appearances as their fortunes are dwindling. The sub-prime mess, Bear Stearns debacle and the ordinary run-of-the-mill lay off have taken their toll. 

An excerpt:

"One of her clients recently confessed that his net worth had decreased to $8 million from more than $20 million, and he thinks that his wife will leave him. He has hidden their fall in fortune by taking on debt to pay for her extravagant clothes and vacations."

Another excerpt:

"So New York's very wealthy are addressing their distress in discreet and often awkward ways. They try to move their $165 sessions with personal trainers to a time slot that they know is already taken. They agree to tour multimillion-dollar apartments and then say the spaces don't match their specifications. They apply for a line of credit before art auctions, supposedly to buy a painting or a sculpture, but use that borrowed money to pay other debts."

Sometimes, when I look back on my time in New York, I think of the financial and material pressures. Even though I was an "artist," I still felt that odd pressure. If I was going to travel in the right circles, I had to look a certain way or at least have affinity for those who bought into that system. 

This was a direct contrast with my life in San Francisco, where materialism was frowned upon. The joke back then was that the Haight-Ashbury Gap store usually got a rock thrown through it's window once a year. 

I usually tell people that I didn't buy into that materialism while living in New York, but that's not true. I strongly suspect that the debt I'm paying off right now is related to that pressure to have the right clothes, the right apartment and the right income. Or at least look like I do.

Whenever I doubt my decision to leave New York, all I have to do is remember a friend of mine. While not being in the arts herself, she came from a long line of writers and actors. Her family had built quite a fortune through their success. Even though she knew I was not in the same situation, she still insisted on going to expensive Sushi restaurants to chat. And despite the fact that only half of our group could afford it, we all went, lest we look like we couldn't afford it.

Things changed when she discovered how much money I made writing that year. I was supporting myself through contract work, but just barely. It horrified her, but I was proud of the fact that I was making money doing what I loved. 

Living under that pressure was counter-productive to my writing. How can I strive to be emotionally honest in my writing and live an image that is fake? I don't want to be that kind of writer. I want to live closer to my core, not move further away through living a "persona."

That is one of the major reasons why I left New York. It's the reason why I chafe at phoniness and why I don't buy into the mirage that New York has always represented to me. 

If being successful means being a phony, I don't want any part of it. But I also know, now, success can also come through being real.

Creating Change

A new way? A fabulous article on the economy and the cultural shift at Salon.

"America's not on top anymore, because we've been exporting nothing but lukewarm fajita platters and spray-tanned celebrity jackasses for decades now. The days of closet-reorganizing professionals and Botox parties and hiring a personal trainer for your nanny's personal chef are over ... and thank God for that."

Amen. This kind of mediocrity has seeped all the way through our cultural landscape. It's the reason I gravitate towards 20th century literature, music and art. After 1979, something happened which radically changed the fiber of our country. This "change for the worse" shows up in the culture from 1980 onward. It's a shift away from humanity, community and common good towards selfishness, materialism and conformity.

I've watched the transition from the 80s hard-core greed to the 90s meaninglessness to 00s fear. I've witnessed writers cater to readers and audiences who superficially protest against these values.

A cultural shift is coming. Our political system guarantees it. The recession supports it. As the article writer notes, we can't rely on catastrophes to create this shift. The job of those in the arts these days - myself included - is to witness, validate and build momentum for change.

Chicken Little

Jethro told me that this post didn't make much sense. Allow me rephrase it.

The economy is tanking. What effect is that going to have on the arts?

Here's one possibility. I bet we'll be seeing more of this kind of thing. I don't know how you're going to prepare for it, but I'm planning on paying off my debt and sticking to a budget. (Thanks Scott)

Colliding Interests

Let's see... Gas is at $3.35 a gallon on average across the U.S. Foreclosures cripple American families. In places like Ohio, one out of ten people are receiving government aid. Do I have to mention Bear Stearns? You know, the company that got bailed by the Fed, invoking a Depression-era law and making economists everywhere incredibly frightened for our future.

Oh yeah, and have you noticed rising food prices and higher energy costs? During the first quarter of this year, 232,000 jobs were lost in the U.S. Economy's first quarter. Only 80,000 jobs were lost last month alone. The Iraq War has cost over $500 Billion.

Not to be a downer, because I would certainly love to pretend that I live in a completely different time and place. You know, the one that allows me to maintain a high credit card balance and not pay it off... But it seems typical of our present society to believe that there are no limits to resources like money or the environment.

In light of the economic circumstances of our country... You know, people getting thrown out of their jobs and their homes... People begging for gas money - and actually using it for gas money... Is there a way to talk about government funding for the arts without feeling out of touch with what's happening?

Seriously. Help me out here.

Sharp Schisms in Culture

I haven't written an original thought here in a while. My thinking cap is being harnessed for Project 1968, but I do want to weigh in on Isaac's comments on Sarah Ruhl.

This post will have little do with theater. I have never read a play by Sarah Ruhl; nor have I seen a performance of her work. But the backlash doesn't surprise me and here's why:

Our world situation is rapidly changing in ways that we have yet to understand.

Economically, things aren't going well. People are losing their homes, municipalities are in deep financial trouble, and gas has nearly doubled from what it was at the beginning of the Bush presidency. The war in Iraq continues. Venezuela and Columbia are in conflict.

When the culture sudden shifts, art that express old values are no longer valid. It's the reason why pop culture has to constantly reinvent itself. Art that hopes to transcend the present must be rooted in a universal experience. It must go beyond the expression of what's currently fashionable.

Reading what others have written about Ruhl's work, I suspect that's what people are picking up. The culture has shifted; the writer has not.

If current trends continue, I suspect that more of our almost past-tense culture will feel woefully dated. I don't think that's a bad thing.

Down with Debt

Paying off credit cards is a challenge. I'm still working the Dave Ramsey plan, and it's finally been working for me. I made a BIG credit card payment last month. I expect to make an even BIGGER payment this month. I know it's working because the credit card companies have raised my limit, sent me a multitude of offers and have been sweating the fact that they are going to lose me as a customer. I'm especially excited about ditching the "American Way of Life," i.e. spend now and pay later. There's something subversive about living within my means. I love it.

Learning how to stay within budget has been a learning experience. I now know the total amount of money I need for the week, but I'm still having problems categorizing it. I don't know how much money I need for food, for clothes, for pets, etc. I just know the total amount I need. I suspect this is how Jethro is keeping his budget as well, though he has it all down on paper - something I'm working on.

Back in 2003, I remember reading a book that was written by an actor. He encouraged the use of credit cards and debt, saying that debt was like an investment. It was a sign of confidence for an artist to take on debt. It meant that the artist knew that he was going to be successful and pay it off. I wish I could remember the name of the book, so I could encourage everyone not to read it. That's partly how I got into debt. Not only was the author's philosophy wrong, it was also stupid.

Once I'm able to break free from financial slavery, I'll be able to spend even more time working on my own projects. Priceless

More on Debt and Writing

Pat Gabridge elaborates on finances and writing. As Chris has suggested, I plan on blogging my experiences paying off my debt. I haven't officially enrolled in Financial Peace University yet, though I paid for a lifetime membership during my Dave Ramsey experience. Jethro and I will do it. We both have those little financial organizers that designed for the program. I unwrapped mine this weekend, and gave the other one to him. We chatted for a while about it. Figuring out a budget will be key.

I have a feeling that starting it is the hardest part, though Baby Step #1 shouldn't be a problem for me. I'm almost there anyway.

Throughout my life as a writer, I've had periods of money and periods of poverty. Neither has taught me how to deal with money. Poverty is no way to live.

I also don't buy the idea that I have to settle for poverty to do what I want in life. Yes, that includes theater.

More progress as we figure out what the heck we're doing, and how the heck we're doing it.

The Dave Ramsey Experience

Going to see Dave Ramsey last night was very cool. As I mentioned yesterday, he's the "Get out of Debt" guru. His show is part self-help, part entertainment and part motivational coaching. The whole evening is grounded in a seven step program. He also talked a great deal about how American Culture is saturated with a debt mentality. Ain't that the truth...

It also brings debt out in the open. If you see him live, you're sitting with a few thousand other folks in the same position. That's heartening.

What I came away from the show is this: You don't have to be poor to live within a budget. I don't know where I got the idea that only rich people could live within their means.

Jethro and I used the evening as a sort of pre-marital financial counseling session. Our ideas about money aren't far apart, so bringing him to the event was nothing. He's very open to new ideas and pretty much agreed with everything Dave said already. And he already practices a great deal of it, so there you go.

The show made me reflect on how writers often settle for being poor, especially theater folks. I also wondered about the wisdom of going to a *really expensive* university to study something that is saturated in poverty. An office manager for a theater company makes 20K-30K a year. Back in the 90s, I was responsible for working on a compensation study for nonprofits in California. I'm well aware of the salaries issues for nonprofits, and theaters usually fell on the low end of that spectrum. It's one of the reasons I never picked up a job in a nonprofit theater. I couldn't afford it, especially with the debt load from college.

Not only would my life be different if I was debt-free, but my writing would also be different. I'd have more time, for one thing. I could use the money I make to fund my writing project rather than my payments to debtors.

So, there it is. I enrolled in Financial Peace University, mostly to learn how to handle money. (Insurance? Wills? Whaaaa?) This will not be the last you hear about debt, the arts, and me. Time to grow up.

Bottom line: It wasn't one of those cheesy enpowerment exercises. Nor was it a rip-off. I highly recommend him to anyone. If you can't see him in person, at least listen to him on the radio.

Debt!

Jethro and I are going to see Dave Ramsey tonight. He's a "get rid of debt" guru. I'm the one who is most excited about our adventure, since Jethro doesn't believe in credit cards or the like.

When I lived in NYC, I bought the party line that going into debt for my theater career was a sign that I had confidence. Yes, I even read a how-to book on theater that encouraged people to go into debt.

So I did, and what I found is this: It doesn't help. It tied me to jobs I didn't like, preventing me from doing the things I wanted to do. Plus, I had less time to write in the long run.

Since leaving NYC, I've seen the folly of debt. It doesn't do any good to owe anything to anyone if you can help it.

Throughout history, a number of writers have dealt with debt. They either haven't made enough money from writing or they extended themselves a little too far. Edmund Wilson comes to my mind, only because he's a southern writer who bounced in and out of NYC during a certain point in his life.

The good part about dealing with debt is that I value my writing more. It has made me go out and search for paying writing jobs. I've had to take my writing more seriously as a result. Otherwise, I would spend all day at home, writing stories and plays that only I care about.

Maybe at some point I'll go back to that. Meanwhile, I am a firm believer that the less debt you have, the better for your writing. But that's just my opinion...

On Theater, Class and the Playwright

I don't want to leave a mega-long comment over at Parabasis, so I'll take up the laptop on this topic again here at Gasp. There are a slew of strings attached to the issue of class and theater, but I'll try not to ramble too much.

As far as I can see right now, self-producing is the only way to go. Because I've never really had the funds to do it, I don't exactly know how. I'm fairly certain once I worked it out, I could be good at it. The problem is when you don't come from money, don't have money, then working with money in that way is a daunting challenge.

What would you do if you won $20,000? Pay off your student loans or produce your play? Take care of your survival needs or promote your work? It's a tough decision, and it makes me wonder what people from various financial backgrounds would say.

(On a side note, part of my problem with spending that money on theater is the intangibility of it. I could spend money on publishing a book because its a physical object. Theater is purely experiential, and with my background, it appears harder to justify spending that money. Maybe that's just my hangup though.)

I don't think grant money is the answer, at least in terms of how grants are given these days. As I said before, I didn't wait for grants to research and write my play about 1968. Generally speaking, grant money appears to go to those playwrights who are already institutionally accepted. It seems that once playwrights become institutionally accepted, then money is readily available. If you don't have institutional backing, then grant money isn't available.

It's good for those playwrights who are institutionally accepted to step back and ask themselves how they gained that acceptance. At what cost did they arrive at that acceptance? Does being an institutionally accepted playwright make one a better writer? Obviously, institutional acceptance helps this financial issue.

Several people have mentioned that coming from a moneyed background provides advantages, such as time. There's even been a comment about writers from upper class backgrounds, as if brilliance and money are tied together. It's not just a working class ethic to believe that hard work pays off. Female writers throughout history have had to balance family, housework, and children while working on their novels and plays. Time and money do not equal brilliance. Neither does public exposure, for that matter. It's a false premise.

I believe it's important during this discussion to be cautious about not blaming the poor, as our society has a tendency to do. Poor people are constantly told, through a variety of means, that it's their fault that they aren't rolling in the dough. The worse slap in the face is being told that there is something morally wrong with them. Good writers come from all backgrounds. Where there's a will, there's a way.

There's a sense of entitlement with our generation. In poorer countries, theater is done without costumes. It's done without a stage or grants or anything. It only requires people. That's it. People. Actors and audiences.

I've also noticed that the theatrical blogosphere is preoccupied with a certain kind of theater - urban, smart, directed to a certain audience. The fact is that other audiences for theater exist. There's community theater, theaters in churches, smaller professional theater, regional theater, colleges, among other places. These places attract a variety of people. I've even heard that writers can make significant money in those venues. There are hotbeds of community theater throughout the country. These people take their theater very seriously. And they're good at what they do.

I talked a while back about how playwrights outside of NYC can dedicate themselves to the local scene. Every state has a local scene, and like missionaries, theater people have a responsibility to spread the art. There's no reason why the public can't be more involved with theater. Of course, it would require all of us to give up our elitism...

In terms of NYC theater, I have no answers. I'm no longer a part of that scene, and I'm relieved. I don't have a whole lot in common with that world, personally, and if people with trust funds can make it work for them, all the more power to them.

An immediate solution is, of course, to talk about it. In that way, Isaac is to be commended for observing this issue and bringing it up. It's a challenge, and requires plenty of self-examination. That isn't an easy thing to do.