I took the plunge into fully-fledged self-employment. I had been 'unemployable' for quite a while, but on 31 March last year I decided to quit being a 'jane of all trades' and put all of my energy into becoming a master of one. Ever since leaving full-time employment at the foxhole in March 2008 I had dreaded the question; "So, what do you do?" You see, I didn't have a neat, one-sentence answer... I made my living in dribs and drabs, some smaller dribs, some bigger drabs as an 'art consultant/ diamond dealer/ painter and (sometimes) freelance copywriter'.
Somewhere between designing engagement rings, throwing paint around in my studio and suggesting art for housewives with waaaaay too much free time on their hands, I found myself being given more and opportunities to write, something I'd always had a knack for but never, ever thought I'd make a living from... well, wrap me up and call me Christmas, I was wrong...
It turns out that the economic meltdown (towards the end of 2009) was just the kick up the butt I needed to stop being an airy fairy creative type – and focus. Three out of the four galleries that represented me, and had been selling my paintings regularly, closed up shop and the fairytale six months of making a living as an artiste drew to a close. As the funds dried up, so too did my desire to spend hours in Sandton City trying to earn commission on a diamond solitaire or an overpriced 'match your couch' piece of art. A few copywriting jobs built my (un-qualified, never went to Vega or triple-A) confidence and it began to dawn on me that this freelance writing thing wasn't just viable, it could be my thing, or as the Drill Sergeant says, my niche.
It turns out that the economic meltdown (towards the end of 2009) was just the kick up the butt I needed to stop being an airy fairy creative type – and focus. Three out of the four galleries that represented me, and had been selling my paintings regularly, closed up shop and the fairytale six months of making a living as an artiste drew to a close. As the funds dried up, so too did my desire to spend hours in Sandton City trying to earn commission on a diamond solitaire or an overpriced 'match your couch' piece of art. A few copywriting jobs built my (un-qualified, never went to Vega or triple-A) confidence and it began to dawn on me that this freelance writing thing wasn't just viable, it could be my thing, or as the Drill Sergeant says, my niche.
One bizcommunity ad, proper branding (thanks, Daniel & McKay) and an office (thanks, Dreamstation) in Rosebank's fabulous firestation) later I find myself running a bona fide business. So business-y is my little business that my nasty boss (me) wouldn't even give me the day off on my birthday. Sure, the past twelve month hasn't been a picnic... I'm not such a fan of 30-day payment terms and I've had one or two days where the only copywriting I've had to do was update my Facebook status and Twitter account, but all in all it's been a great, (almost) no pressure learning curve.
What's triggered this little blog post trip down memory lane? Well, this morning I got the ball rolling on actually registering my company. Yip, The not so starving artist is a mountain of paperwork and a trip or two to SARS away from being a registered company. This art fart with a fine art degree is about to become a business owner – wow, I so did not see that coming...
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