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Recently the hubs and I and some friends went to see one of my favorite musicians at a space at the Austin City Limits Moody Theater, tickets I’d eagerly stood by to snatch up, finger poised over the “buy” button, the day they went on sale.
The venue was completely sold out. The woman next to us had driven up from Houston because his concerts had sold out there too before she could secure tickets. The fellow fans around me and I excitedly compared venues where we’d seen him, and talked about our favorite past shows and our hope of attending one of his annual fan retreats, while we danced for two hours straight with one another and along with the crowd, most of us singing along to every song.
This is the kind of response any artist might dream about, isn’t it?
But you may never have heard of Eric Hutchinson, the musician in question. The listening room at the Moody where I saw him was, like all the venues where I’ve seen him play, relatively small, maybe 150 people or so. He’s had only three songs even hit the Billboard charts, and his peak position never made it past 29.
I discovered him incidentally about 15 years ago, when I heard one of his singles on the radio, “Rock and Roll,” and as some songs sometimes do, it snagged my attention so hard I immediately went out and bought his entire debut CD (yes, CD), Sounds Like This.
Since then I’ve seen him live every time he’s come through Austin, and bought all his albums since. On this tour he took the stage by himself, with three instruments he alternated playing, and that was it. Just a man and his music and a relatively modest number of die-hard fans, who call themselves Hutch-heads.
How a Creative Career Is Built
That night Eric told the story of that first album that had originally turned me into a fan, the 15th anniversary of which was the focus of this tour. He had been trying to make it as a musician, living at home with his parents in between touring, and was just about ready to give up on music as a career when he decided he didn’t want to let go of his dream without at least having created an album.
He scraped together all the money he could and produced it himself, at a time when this wasn’t particularly common, and released it to minimal fanfare.
He got a few bumps in popularity along the way. A major blogger of the time, Perez Hilton, featured his songs on his site as some of his favorites, and the next day Hutchinson said he woke up to “his birthday times a thousand,” messages and downloads for his song beyond anything he’d seen.
The album gained steam. He got some radio play, which is when I discovered him.
He stayed in the music game.
As the years went on his fan base grew and he continued to put out more albums and tour. A few years ago he got a call from the Olive Garden asking to use one of his songs in a national campaign—right before the pandemic hit, the world shut down, and every restaurant quit advertising because no one was going.
They pulled the spot. He lost the big-money ad-licensing gig. He sat at home, like the rest of the world, while COVID raged.
And he kept making music.
He’s now been working at this career for decades, and by some standards he may still not have “made it.” He still has fewer than 30,000 Instagram followers (not shabby by any measure, but not Springsteen either). He’s hovering somewhere in the music equivalent of the midlist.
And yet here he is, continuing to write and play his songs. He’s still making a career in the thing he loves best. He shows up onstage and one of the hallmarks of his live performances is his boundless energy and positivity and his sheer clear enjoyment of his craft and sharing it with audiences. Over the course of the evening he thanked us numerous times for listening to his music, for being there, for sharing the celebration of his first album with him.
I often think what it must be like to look out into a crowd of any size and see the majority of them singing along with your work, smiling, dancing, and clapping. The idea that something you created alone in a room that comes from and speaks to your own soul resonates with other people so much that it clearly has affected their lives. That they have listened to it so many times they know every word right along with you. That just hearing it and seeing you play it makes them happy.
I’ve been lucky enough to have moments where it was clear my creative work was connecting with someone on a powerful, deep level, that it meant something to them. There’s no feeling like it. It’s the clearest way I know to share the inside of you on the outside, to connect with other people at the core level of what makes each of you you.
Read more: “What Is Your Wendy?”
Those moments live more in my mind than any paycheck I’ve ever cashed, any number of followers I’ve ever garnered.
I wonder if Eric Hutchinson feels like that too. I suspect he does. Every time I’ve seen him onstage, he seems jacked to be there, practicing his craft and sharing it with people who dig the crap out of it.
Defining Your Enough
As authors I think we dream of the big leagues. It’s the rare author who goes into this career without at least some inkling of a dream of reaching its highest heights: the New York Times bestseller list, the seven-figure book deals sold at auction, the movie adaptations.
Those are heady dreams indeed. But it’s a minute fraction of authors who ever achieve them. Organizing your career plans around it is like creating a business plan based on winning the lottery.
Read more: “The Happy Harsh Truths of a Writing Career”
We can get so caught up in the quantity of fans and followers we may attain we might forget about the meaning of our work.
What is enough? What would make your work feel worthwhile?
I think we can get so caught up in the quantity of fans and followers we may attain we might forget about the meaning of our work. I’ve seen authors do social media lifts designed to get them dozens or even hundreds of new followers—but what value do those really have if they are not vibing personally to your work? If they’re not your equivalent of Hutch-heads?
It’s not those banks of tepid followers who are going to make your work feel worthwhile—or even buy it. It’s the true believers, the proselytizers.
Read more: “Giving Your All for the Few”
The night of Eric Hutchinson’s sold-out Austin show we took two friends to see him for the first time. They were willing to go see an artist they’d never heard of based on how much I told them I loved his music.
Maybe they’ll join the Hutch-head herd. Maybe they won’t. But that’s two new potential fans who discovered his work because of me, a superfan, spreading the word in a way that they trusted. A genuine way. A way that no number of blind meaningless retweets can replicate.
Now I’m sharing his story and his music with you, and maybe you’ll go check him out too.
Read more: “How to Be a Working Writer”
When Would You Quit?
Here’s a little mental check-in I have used throughout my entire career in both editing and when I was a journalist and an actor: If somebody told me right now that I would never hit the heights I dreamed of, would I continue to do what I do?
With editing and my teaching and writing, that’s been an easy yes, day after day after day.
Interestingly, asking myself that question was why I quit acting, many years ago—in a bit of a backward way. I started actually thinking about what my life would look like if I did hit the greatest heights an actor could hope for, and I realized that I didn’t want to be famous and lose privacy and anonymity. I didn’t want to always be worrying about the next younger actor coming up behind me taking my roles, or scrambling to stay relevant.
And knowing that, I realized that the day-to-day wasn’t fulfilling enough to me either. There was a time I loved acting so much I would have done it for free (and did! too often), but at that point I knew I didn’t love it enough anymore to want to do it for its own sake. I’d been chasing a brass ring that I suddenly realized I didn’t actually want, and I wasn’t really enjoying the journey anymore either.
Lately it’s been the same with my fiction writing. I was enjoying the process until I wasn’t, and I have been taking a hiatus from that while I focus solely on what does feed my soul: this work I do here, with you guys, writing about writing and craft, and in my editing and teaching.
I can’t imagine ever going back to acting—I realize now it wasn’t my true passion. Maybe I’ll go back to fiction and maybe I won’t—it’s not really my true passion either.
Maybe, one day, I might realize that even my editing/teaching work that does feel like my truest passion isn’t anymore. Maybe I’ll find something new that is.
Or maybe, like Eric Hutchinson, I’ll just keep at it—keep showing up, keep doing the work, keep feeding my soul and looking for the people I connect with over that purpose I feel.
Maybe, when you sit down to write on your current work in progress, day after day after day, you will too.
Read more: “Why Do You Write?”
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16 Comments. Leave new
Another one of your blog posts that will live in my head rent free! I know I’ll keep writing no matter what happens career-wise (or at least I know that answer right now), and yet it’s the day-to-day that feels so tough. I never wake up and think, I can’t wait to write today! If anything I dread it, but like exercise, I feel so good and centered when it’s done. So I need to think about that and how I can access more joy. Also, I am totes your super fan! Can we call ourselves fox-heads???
We’re going to be pretty embarrassing to be around, then since you know I am your #1 fangirl as well. 🙂 I love your observation about the day-to-day–it can be hard some days (many days?), but it’s that steady drip of showing up, doing the work, that creates a writing career. And if there ever comes a time when that stops feeling fulfilling…we have the freedom to simply stop, take a break, refill the well and come back–or not. That perspective takes off the pressure for me a lot of times–as you point out, I try to look at it not as something I have to do, but something I want to do…day after day after day.
Have you read the book Atomic Habits by James Clear? I like the approach of how to build big things by developing habits for a steady series of smaller things.
Thanks for the comment, you fox-head. 🙂 I guess that makes me a Flanagander?
I love this post, Tiffany! Encouraging. In my understanding, pursuing different ‘true loves’ in the seasons of life can be authentic loves, as we continue to explore and ‘grow into’ new things.
True! We change, don’t we? I like the idea of doing what we love, whatever that is, however it may evolve. Thanks for the comment, Lorraine.
I’d like to think my end will be me trying to add one more story to the world I’ve created. Just one more. That’s why I gladly spend as much time on those stories as I do. It’s also why, when trying to draft the entire 7-novel series, I became stuck after Book 4 and took three years off — to write stories in a different part of the world (actually, the topic of last week’s blog post … go figure).
I’ve put in countless hours (years, actually), and invested funds I often didn’t have, yet there are no regrets no matter the outcome. Success? Sure, I’d take that, but I cherish the process, I cherish bringing a world alive, and I cherish the characters who’ve had such a huge impact on my life. I spent decades in jobs I disliked. This is freedom for my mind.
That’s beautiful, Christina. That’s what creative work IS, to me–pursuing the things that feed our hearts, souls, psyches. I love your comment about adding your stories to the world. I think about that too–putting my work into the world, and hoping it may resonate with other people, no matter how many or few. It’s the most genuine way for us to connect as humans, I think. And the process is the purpose, isn’t it?
Your series (7!?) sounds incredibly ambitious, and clearly a passion project. I wish you all the best with it, and continued enjoyment of the process! Thanks for stopping by.
Tiffany, we all need fans like you. People who are affected by what we do, if only for a moment. (But longer is better!)
Second, if I could think of something better to do than writing, I’d do it. That’s why I taught, designed scenery, costume, and lighting, and directed for so many years. I couldn’t think of anything better to do. When it no longer did what you called “feed my soul,” I looked for something that would. Looked for a long time made a lot of bad decisions.
Now I feel that, if I wouldn’t do it unless I got paid, I don’t do it at all.
I hope you’ve found what you’re looking for, and it’s working with us.
Ah, a fellow theater nerd! 🙂 I love that you do only what you love to do–surely that’s a privilege we gain with years? I’ve always let that guide me in most things–that if it’s not fun I don’t want to do it. That’s how I wound up with a career I genuinely adore every day.
Glad you’re still relishing writing. There’s nothing quite like it, is there? Glad to see you here, as always, Bob.
What a thought-provoking article. I hope your hiatus from fiction writing doesn’t last long, because I am a serious fangirl of your writing! Yet I am also a fan of your non-fiction as well. Listening to Eric Hutchinson as I write this. 🙂
AHHHH, I am so happy you’re checking out Eric Hutchinson! He makes me smile and makes my toes tap. Thanks for the kind words about my writing. I’m not ruling out ever returning to fiction–just letting myself leave it for now till it calls to me again, if it does. Thanks, Cate.
This post really hit home. Writing has always been my passion. To me, success meant being able to support my family doing what I loved. After publishing five books while working full-time, though, I was disenchanted and exhausted. That was five years ago. Last November, I started writing again and was instantly reminded of how writing replenishes my soul more than a fat paycheck ever could, which is my new definition of success.
This comment put a smile on my face, Barbara. You describe such a pure bolt of fulfillment that writing–or any creative pursuit–can offer. Like you, I have found myself able to enjoy it much more once I took the pressure off of it to “be” anything particular. I do it for its own sake, and I’ve found much more satisfaction and enjoyment in that. And if it vibes with others, so much the better! Thanks for sharing this.
As ever a beautiful post, thank you.
My take out from this was to give ourselves permission to do what we want (because we’re worth it, don’t y’know!)
This week I wrote a piece which has connected so well with the audience and reading all their comments made my heart sing. It reminded me of the pure joy of writing. It was a piece I’d written from the heart and it was so wonderful when the rest of world also seemed to ‘click’
I’ve realised, though, that euphoric feeling is addictive…
Thanks, Syl. Love your takeaway–true, isn’t it? It can be so sneakily easy to stop following our hearts when we follow our hearts. Creative work starts to feel like a chore or a means to some other end, and we lose sight of what made us want to do it in the first place. Maybe that’s one reason I love Eric Hutchinson so much. I often think that musicians wind up playing a lot of the same songs over and over when touring, and it would be so easy to get sick of them or phone it in. But he brings it 100 percent every time–really seems to be enjoying himself up there, and fans’ responses.
And yeah, that feeling of your work connecting with others is addictive for sure. You just gave it to me with your kind words on this post, in fact. 🙂 Thank you!
I am totally on the Fox-head train. So glad I found your posts and courses. Last year, I switched to a kind of fiction I never thought I’d write: Historical, inspired by true events, which takes so much research and detailed outlining. It turns out, I love research. For the first time ever —and yes, I know how this sounds— I feel like I didn’t choose the story. It chose me. It’s like the story wants to be written. Short answer on would I keep doing it? Yes. And also keep my day job. And keep being a Fox-head. And seek out Eric Hutchinson. 🙂
How cool that you found a new genre that called to you, Jennie–and listened! I’m always in a bit of awe of historical fiction: the extensive research it requires, and the way good ones make you feel as if you’re living history. Love that you’re loving it. And that you’re checking out Eric Hutchinson! 🙂 And if “Foxheads” becomes a thing, I’m going to credit you and Erin Flanagan. 😉 Thanks for the comment–it’s so nice to hear the work is helpful.