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What is Creative Entrepreneurship?

I was recently asked to give a talk at the UEA London Campus on what it means to be a creative entrepreneur. I thought I’d post the talk here, as most people still seem to have trouble with the concept of arts and business intermingling.

This is only my personal account of the course, and is fairly anecdotal, but it sums up what I think I gained from this excellent MA, and how I got to where I am now.

It’s a bit like therapy when you start out. Hi, my name is Andrea Michael, and I am a creative entrepreneur. It feels a bit strange when you first tell people that, and we certainly spent enough time on the course examining the root of that word, ‘entrepreneur’, and what people think when you say it.

 

I can tell you this:

 

I do not look like an entrepreneur. I do not wear designer suits to get attention, you cannot judge me by my watch. I, like most other graduates, still live at home. In short, I am not Alan Sugar.

But I am a businesswoman. And an artist. And that merging of two amazing worlds is what I’m here to talk to you about. Because I think getting a Masters in Creative Entrepreneurship has been the most important thing I’ve done so far, and I’ve been an ambassador for merging business and art ever since.

I am a writer. I write novels. Mainly for adults, but also for teenagers and children. I write poetry, blog posts, articles, reviews, web content, comedy and outraged letters. And still, after doing this for years, even after graduating from UEA’s highly respected BA in English Literature with Creative Writing, I still walked into my first lesson on this MA, unable to call myself a writer.

 

I studied, I practiced my craft, and I was actually pretty good. But I still didn’t have the confidence to proclaim myself an artist. I had a excellent degree from a distinguished university and  had absolutely no idea where to go next. I didn’t even know it was possible to be a full time writer! I certainly had no business skills. All I had was my writing, my passion and a desire to never work a nine-to-five in my life. I like to think it’s my enthusiasm that got me accepted onto the MA, and the skills that I gained there that got me to where I am now.

 

We learned about all the things that my academic degree had failed to give me- an understanding of how to do things for yourself. How to market myself, to analyse my strengths and weaknesses, and work through, or around them. To use budgets, understand self-employment and tax. To set up a website, apply for funding. How to best use your ideas, and your art, to benefit you and others.

 

Traditionally, art has been seen as almost a polar opposite to business. But if there has been anything I learnt on this course, it is this: Art has two types of value. The first is the obvious, the aesthetic. The first reason an artist creates: to speak to an audience. To express passion or ideas, to create something meaningful and send it out into the world. But the second is monetary value. Art is worth a lot. And like all things, it has a price.

An artist may be creating out of love, or hatred or politics, or whatever drives them. But that artist also has overheads; tools to pay for, travel expenses and labour costs. Why shouldn’t that be viewed in terms of business? An artist has goods and services to sell. There is no shame in combining artistry and money. Good art is not made through starvation. It is made through understanding your own value.

That, above all, is what I prize most about this course. It gave me a sense of my own value. It made me confident enough in my skills to stand before you today and call myself a writer.

There are many other benefits. Being surrounded by like-minded people from different artistic backgrounds, ages, parts of the world, all of whom want to do the same thing- make a living from their art. With the course being so intimate, you create a support network, one which I still rely on today. My course-mates are talented and passionate professionals, and we still stay in touch, passing on work, bouncing ideas. We created a sense of identity on the course, we became artists who understood the importance of creating our own revenue, not depending on grants or funding from outside sources.

Similarly, that network expanded to include the specialist advisors and guest lecturers who gave lessons in their fields, whether that was how to write a press release, how to identify your selling points, or how to use social media to your advantage. Like the business world, the arts world is also all about who you know. And this course introduces you to all the right people.

 

Traditional scholars may tell you that art is sullied by business. But we are not living in a world where the cliched whimsical artist is provided for by a patron. Art cannot afford to be blind to value. Artists cannot afford to ignore how their talent can be used. There is no reason that when I call myself an artist, people should assume that I am not a businesswoman also. Companies seems to search for creativity amongst their employees, and the artist has this in abundance. Knowing how to apply it is the key. Creativity is not a weakness. Don’t I have to work to deadlines? Search for new clients? Imaginatively problem solve? Appeal to my target market? I can do these things, and now I realise how much they are worth.

 

 

It has been a year since I graduated, and in that time, my life as a writer has taken tremendous leaps forward.

A large part of the course is creating an Arts Plan, a guide for how I plan to steer my creative career over the next five years. It is a collage of aspirations, strengths and weaknesses, contacts, business plans, account details and a constant reminder of how far I have come, and how far I have to go. I ‘check in’ with this document, update my plans, maybe change things, but having it there to look at helps me push forward. And I am going places.

 

My first novel (which was a coursework piece) is being considered for publication, my second novel has just been finished, and the third is in the works. Various articles on the intermingling of arts and business, as well as fiction, have been published in magazines, and I’ve gained some great contacts in the publishing industry, as well as winning a few prizes along the way.

 

My comedic blog, Cafe Disaster, about the trials of working as a highly educated but minimally paid barista in Kensington, now has thousands of hits a week, a dedicated fanbase, and various advertising offers. This started as a creative outlet on the course, to amuse my friends and classmates. It’s now taken on a life of it’s own and is being seen as an example of the problems facing the graduates of the recession generation.

 

I started my own business, The DumbSaint Project, which provides creative writing workshops for children, teenagers and adults. It’s gained a great reputation at festivals and is expanding on target. I have since been able to quit my job as a barista and focus solely on my writing and workshops. My readers are worried that the blog will suffer.

I cannot recommend this course highly enough, and I have friends who joined the MA after me, because I pointed out that they had perfected their craft over the years, but were strangers to the life skills needed for their career. This course equips you with the tools you need to carve out a life for yourself as an artist. It allows you to find your own path, your creative niche, but also gives you the chance to experiment before you’re thrown out into a world that doesn’t always recognise the value of artists.

 

I can now legitimately call myself a writer. Because that is what I do. I write, I advertise, I arrange a business, I network, I do my accounts. I apply my skills in ways that allow me to live. I use my ideas to survive. And that is what being an entrepreneur is.

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We’re Half Way There..Oh! Oh! Living on a Prayer!

Sometimes, looking at your life from the outside can appear a bit deceptive. For example, in the last week I gave an interview to The Times about how great my creative life is since graduating from the MA in Creative Entrepreneurship, I then took part in the advert for said course, and went back to talk to the current class about my achievements.

This, surely, should mean that I’ve ‘Made It’, whatever and wherever ‘It’ is, right?

So how come some things (like panicking about whether the kids you’re teaching are going to hate you and think you’re a washed up writer with nothing to say, or you know, spending a considerable amount of time ‘Arranging your Social Media Pathways’ in your pyjamas) never change?

When will we actually know that we’ve achieved what we want to achieve? When we see our names in print? When our books are on shelves, or we’ve got a steady income?

I think perhaps it’s all about spin. As creative entrepreneurs we need to be our own spin doctors. Especially when we direct it towards people who doubt us. Those who judge the writer/artist/actor/musician and sees that they’ve got multiple income streams, that they’re not just an actor, but an actor/writer/teacher can sometimes snigger and make pointed comments about our lifestyle. So I use my talent for telling a story, and make my life wonderful. Of course, the writing workshops are doing well, of course I’m having absolutely no problem banging out the second novel. Everything’s amazing, and my life is how I want it, thank you very much. 

For the most part, this isn’t spin, it’s reality. Possibly with a little bit of sparkle dust thrown in for good measure. But the danger is when we start to believe our own good publicity. Sure, we need a good bit of advertising now and then, but when we look at the media version of ourselves, conquering all they touch, achieving everything they need to achieve, it appears effortless. It’s when we get out of print, and look down at our pyjamas, see the pile of laundry that needs doing, those two-hundred words that need editing, the reading that needs to be done, the unfinished press releases, or worse, the rejection letters strewn across the table that you just can’t bear to throw away….it’s then that we realise we may be doing pretty well, but we’re just making it look a hell of a lot easier than it is.

So, seeing as The Times doesn’t really like publishing it’s content online for free, I thought I’d take a picture of this tiny snippet of an article I feature in. I’m hoping this doesn’t make me liable for something. I bought two copies of the paper to try and even out the monetary issue! See, I’m nice! I recognise that journalists work hard for their money and deserved to be paid for content! I would just prefer that it’s content I can refer to online.

Probably too small. But it says I'm a professional writer lady. And stuff.

 

Also, to give a note to my creative writing workshops The DumbSaint Project, which was mentioned in this article. We’re running classes for ‘Scribblers’ (Aged 7-10) at Copthall School this February Half Term. It’ll be from 9.30am-11.30am every day that week, and costs £12 per session, or a reduced price of £50 for the whole week. Bargain for a bit of peace and quiet whilst the kids learn something, right?

Get in touch with my admin assistant Dinah at dumbsaintproject@aol.com or go to the website for more info.

 

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Summer Scribbles at Larmertree Festival

So, we here at The DumbSaint Project just got back from a wonderful few days at Larmertree Festival, where we ran the Summer Scribbles workshop. We had people from all over the country, all ages who came in to play The Sixty Second Scribble, roll the Story Dice and create co-operative stories.

We had a blast, and we hope you did too! So, all of the work created by our talented new friends will be up on our forum here within the next few days. If you came to see us in The Lostwood Tent at Larmertree, send in your work to dumbsaintproject@aol.com. Or even if you didn’t, send us something!

Plus, you can check out our flickr photos from the event. Hopefully, we’ll get to come back next year! Until then, happy writing!