Real Artists Don't Starve: Timeless Strategies for Thriving in the New Creative Age

by Jeff Goins

Sometimes in life, the script we’re given no longer fits the story we want to live.

Now, we come to the first rule of the New Renaissance. I call this the Rule of Re-creation, which says that you are not born an artist. You become one.

If he continued playing baseball, he knew he’d have to dedicate himself to the game, which he wasn’t sure he wanted to do. It had gotten to the point where he had to work so hard just to maintain the mechanics of his swing and fielding that it no longer felt meaningful to him.

we want to become artists, we are going to have to break some rules. We cannot do just what is expected of us. At some point,

we must break away from the status quo and forge a new path. As it turns out, this is how creativity works best.

Before you can create great art, you first have to create yourself.

creating yourself means letting go of who you were before and accepting a new identity. It means walking away from what people said you should be in exchange for something better. Inevitably, this means we have to break some rules. Maybe they are even the rules of our parents or of society. Maybe they are the rules we gave ourselves. Wherever

“If you grow up believing you’re connected to one of the most important families in Europe, and everyone around you believes that, that informs your entire persona and that’s how people treat you,”

More often than not, our creative dreams aren’t launched overnight. They are built gradually.

In the end, the more cautious entrepreneurs ended up being the more successful

ones, whereas the risk takers who quit their jobs early were 33 percent more likely to fail.

Sometimes, it’s not the big bets that pay off but the small ones that...

If you don’t have to go all in, don’t. Why not start with a smaller risk? Most significant change begins with a simple step, not a giant leap. You don’t need to see the whole path to know what your next move is; you just need to take the next, right...

Before I expected others to take me seriously, I had to start taking myself seriously.

If you’re waiting for your moment, don’t. Start now. If you’re wondering if you had to be born to paint or sing or dance, you don’t. You just have to choose to become someone else, if the role you’re playing isn’t the one you wanted. You don’t become an artist by moving to New York City without a penny to your name. You become an artist because you decide that’s what you’re going to be, and then you do the work.

We are either becoming more of our true selves or drifting into a false self.

“Nothing is new except arrangement.”

What we perceive as original is often just a rearrangement of what has come before.

According to researcher Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, creative work is comprised of five steps: preparation, incubation, insight, evaluation, and elaboration.

Creativity is not about being original; it’s about learning to rearrange what has already been in a way that brings fresh insight to old material.

This work we do is not making things out of nothing. Creative work involves pulling together old ideas and offering new insights on them. In a word, stealing—that’s what creativity really is. We do not create our way into becoming artists; we rob our way in. “You have to steal,” actor Michael Caine once said. “Steal whatever you see.”

The best artists steal, but they do so elegantly, borrowing ideas from many sources and arranging them in new and interesting ways. You have to know your craft so well that you can build on the work of your predecessors, adding to the body of existing work. This was what Jim Henson was doing when he made

This is the Rule of Creative Theft, which says greatness doesn’t come from a single great idea or eureka moment. It comes from borrowing other people’s work and building on it. We steal our way to greatness.

This is how cultures are made: you copy what has come before you, and you build upon it. You make it better.

Being able to reproduce an earlier work was not something to be ashamed of—it was a point of pride. In the words of author Noah Charney, it was “a sign of ability, not duplicity” to be able to copy the work of a master artist.

“That’s the power of muscle memory,” she wrote. “It gives you a path toward genuine creation through simple re-creation.” The way you establish your authority in a certain field is by mastering the techniques of those who are already authorities. And what eventually emerges over time is your own style.

All creative work builds on what came before. Nothing is completely original.”

The difference between an artist and a copycat is that the artist builds on the work she has received and the copycat only mimics it.

Yes, we all start by doing what others have done, but those who master their crafts don’t stop there. They keep copying until the techniques become internalized. Then and only then can you create something the world calls “original.”

As you watch and learn and eventually borrow from these influences, remember to do so in a way that honors them. Let your influences know you are learning from them and that they are inspiring you. Help them understand your motive, which is to build on the work, not pass it off as your own. And as much as possible, cite your sources, giving credit where credit is due. This won’t discredit you. It will likely endear you to your influences and your audience. Like Michelangelo, showing your ability to copy others’ work will prove that you did your homework.

What does an apprentice do? Whatever is needed. Becoming an apprentice is a choice, an attitude you start practicing today. The marks of a good apprentice are patience, perseverance, and humility.

Not only does an apprentice not give up—they do what no one else is willing to do. It’s hard, thankless work, but if you embrace it, in the end you will be better for it. The moment we begin to believe we deserve success is the very moment it will elude us.

When you realize the career you’re in isn’t where you ultimately want to be, you may feel a similar sense of desperation. We tend to see desperation as a vice, something to avoid. When someone is desperate, we can sense it, and it repels us. But there is another kind of desperation, the kind that says, “If this doesn’t work, I will find another way.” And that kind of desperation translates to passion, a powerful tool when directed at the right target.

When I asked Tia when she knew it was the right time to become an actor, she said, “There is no right time. Finally, it just made more sense than it didn’t.”

Remember this: apprenticeship requires three important traits: patience, perseverance, and humility. You must be courageous enough to reach out to a master but at the same time hardworking enough not to waste his time. When things don’t go according to plan, do what must be done.

And when it doesn’t work out, be persistent. Keep showing up, regardless of the outcome. Opportunities may come and go, but in the end, hard work is all we can measure.

Thriving Artists, however, are flexible on details but stubborn on vision. They do not take personally praises or criticism. They persevere so that they can keep doing their work. Realizing success is not up to them, their job is to continue creating. And if we want to follow in their footsteps, we must do the same, careful to not fixate on the details and harness our strategic stubbornness.

Stubbornness gets in the way when it’s about you—your fame, your reputation, your success—but it becomes a tool when used to further your work.

If you are going to create work that matters, you are going to need an advocate—a person who sees your potential and believes in your work. This isn’t just about money. You need someone to give you a chance, maybe even connect you to the right people.

You can’t just ask for a handout; you must demonstrate both competency in your craft and a willingness to learn.

Influencers want to help people. They want to invest in others. They just need to know that you’re worth their time, which means your abilities need to be obvious.

He used his current scenario and surroundings as a means to an end, as opposed to an impediment to his goals.

This approach of using a day job allows the artist greater flexibility and freedom to do better work without needing to make a living off it.

Kabir knew art costs money, and there was no guarantee his creative work would generate enough money for him to live, so he used his day job to fund his art and was paid to practice his craft in the meantime. Kabir didn’t try to opt out of the system, claiming he didn’t need to make money. Instead, he embraced the reality that without income, an artist can’t create, and then he used his circumstances to his benefit.

Creative work is a team effort—a duo of artist and patron, singer and producer, actor and manager. One is the talent and the other the advocate. Yes, artists need patrons, but what we sometimes miss is that patrons also need artists.

But let’s be clear about something. You can’t succeed alone.

Of course it wasn’t working. Denson didn’t have a Sam Phillips, and when it comes to creative success, that’s everything.

This student is part of what Richard Florida calls the Creative Class, a growing group of professionals that are quickly becoming an important part of society. This growing group of creative workers now makes up a third of the labor force, working in a wide range of industries from technology to entertainment, journalism to finance, and manufacturing to the arts. And one of the most important issues for a member of the Creative Class is location.

This, of course, applies to creative work, as well, maybe even especially. “The most important factor in the success of your career,” Richard Florida told me, “is where you decide to live.”

This is the Rule of the Scene, which says that places and people shape the success of our work far more than we realize. Location is not irrelevant. Place matters. As social psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi wrote, “Creativity is more likely in places where new ideas require less effort to be perceived.” The Starving Artist thinks she can do her work anywhere, but the Thriving Artist understands that where we live and do our work affects the work itself.