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Earlier this year, at the age of 93, a woman named Betty Gordon cowrote and published her first book, a children’s story illustrated by an artist friend.
She never set out to be a writer. Betty came to New York to be an actor, was part of the bohemian art and jazz worlds of the 1950s, hung out with other creatives—up-and-comers, unknowns, and celebrities alike. She starred in shows in small productions and regional theaters, but her acting career never really got off the ground.
Most of her life she supported herself with other jobs, mostly in food service, and eventually she gave up on acting to run a bar in Greenwich Village. In her later years she’s suffered from ill health and financial struggles, eventually resorting to selling off her jewelry.
Looked at one way, her life might be seen as one of failure: failure to achieve her original goals in her career, to scale the heights, even to support herself from it.
And yet reading her story in a recent New York Times profile (gift link so you can read), to me it sounded a marvelous creative success.
She had experiences
Betty moved to New York in her early twenties and plunged right into the thriving art scene there, surrounding herself with creatives of every stripe: artists, musicians, actors. She partied, maybe a bit too much. She loved freely and wildly—maybe a bit too wildly, as she wryly admits now, but with not one shred of regret.
She dated famed undercover cop Frank Serpico—the actual Serpico, whose life was made into the famous 1973 movie starring Al Pacino. She went to Woodstock—the original Woodstock—and danced naked in the mud.
She pursued her own creative passions, with meaty starring parts that read like a roster of actors’ dream roles, in shows by theater’s greatest playwrights: Shakespeare, Shaw, Chekhov, Tennessee Williams, Arthur Miller. Sure, they weren’t high-profile, just regional and local theater, but she was doing the work she loved.
Read more: "Giving Your All for the Few"
She persisted
The article suggests that it wasn’t until into her sixties that Betty began to consider that her acting career had probably peaked. Yet for all those decades she’d kept at it, resiliently pursuing her creative goals.
She created a life that allowed her to do that, working the types of jobs that gave her that creative freedom, supporting herself on her own terms and in a way that honored and allowed her to continue to pursue her creativity.
When she finally let go of the youthful picture she’d once had of her acting career, she started a new venture: as the proprietor of an unprepossessing Greenwich Village bar she transformed into a popular creative mecca, making it the kind of place artists and celebrities gravitated to. She surrounded herself with people with whom she could continue to pursue her creativity, frequently hanging out after hours with staff and others to riff and talk about art.
She gave to her creative community
Betty took over the bar, the Stoned Crow, from her boyfriend when his cancer left him unable to continue running it, and she created and supported a vibrant creative community there.
She hired actors, artists, musicians, and other creatives as servers who also needed the kind of work flexibility to pursue their craft that she herself had once sought. She gave them the freedom to put their art first, but always made room for them to come earn a living at her bar when they needed to.
Read more: "Don't Build Your Network"
She created rich networks with other creatives, regardless of age or medium—like Ian Spence, a younger illustrator with whom she developed a strong connection, offering him work when he needed it and supporting his sobriety.
She took fellow actor friends backstage to the American Ballet Theater to meet Mikhail Baryshnikov, and when they traveled left fresh-made casseroles in their refrigerator for their return. “She produced magic,” one of them remembers. “She was like an angel among us.”
And they gave back to her
When Greenwich Village rents skyrocketed, Betty had to give up the bar in 2010. She began facing health challenges of her own, with long stints in the hospital and rehab, and became mostly housebound.
She never had children who might care for her, but the old Stoned Crow crew, still tight-knit, stepped in to help when she needed it. One of the creatives whose artistic career she helped enable by always holding a job open for her while the woman pursued her own artistic goals—an actress and now teacher at NYU and Columbia graduate acting programs—visited her daily in rehab, regularly helping Betty once she returned home.
Ian Spence, the younger artist she connected with, now not so young, who had used to create cartoons and art for Betty and her bar back in its halcyon days, drew her more cartoons featuring a badass “SuperBetty” heroine to help cheer her.
She built her life on creativity
One of the things I love about Betty’s story is how inextricably woven her creativity and creative community are in her life. They are the fabric of her life—not a separate compartment that she works to find time for, but an intrinsic part of her.
For instance, during the pandemic, when her artist friend Ian Spence battled depression and began to slip back into addiction issues that had plagued him, Betty once again swung into action to support her creative community, lighting on the idea of the two of them collaborating on the children’s book to give him a sense of purpose she felt he needed to recover: Phoebe the Cat, about a fanciful feline who dreams about becoming a dog.
But the idea also stretched the boundaries of her own creative life, moving her into a new prong of it as a writer in her nineties. The book wound up giving her a sense of purpose and fulfillment as well, amid her health and personal struggles.
She and Ian didn’t wait for permission from a gatekeeper to put their work into the world. They published it themselves, again on their own terms, simply wanting to share their creative work with others.
What Is Creative Success?
How does Betty’s life story sound to you? Even though her artistic life might not be deemed a “success” by some, to me it seems like exactly that.
Read more: "When Will You Be a Success?"
She has lived all of it on her own terms, in the creative world she loves, with autonomy and agency. I remember the day I realized that, with careful saving and investing and financial planning, I never had to break down and get a “real job”—one with regular hours and bosses and work I wasn’t passionate about, something I knew from a very young age I wasn’t cut out for—and it felt like freedom to me. It still does. Betty lived her entire life that way.
Even in her nineties, she continues to pursue an artistic life, stretching her creative wings by becoming a writer.
She experienced life without boundaries, filling it with rich experiences and colorful people. She pursued what she loved, acting in plum roles in respected theaters. She surrounded herself with fellow artists who nourished her creative soul and they became a chosen family, and she’s still surrounded by this close-knit group today. Even in her nineties, she continues to pursue an artistic life, stretching her creative wings by becoming a writer.
Betty certainly doesn’t feel her life has been a failure. In her bio on Amazon her acting career gets a passing mention, but it’s her long tenure at the Stoned Crow that she seems proudest of: “I made it a reflection of film and music but always with sports blazing away on both televisions. It became a difficult but wonderful job, and my life was fulfilled!”
If I can look back at my life in my tenth decade and feel that clear joy, pride, and satisfaction with how I lived it, I think I’ll feel I made the most of the time I was given—and I’ll count my creative career and my time on Earth a success.
These are among the ideas I’ve pondered for many years, as I’ve watched hundreds of authors navigate the constant and unpredictable ups and downs of the creative life—and done so myself—and seen what separates those who thrive from those who founder; those who stay creatively fulfilled and satisfied from those who feel discouraged and defeated by the challenging realities of a creative career.
For the last few years I’ve been compiling these ideas into a “survival guide for authors,” a book based on those observations and many conversations with successful authors, as well as my blogs and keynote speeches.
The Intuitive Author releases October 15, and it’s packed with tools for maintaining your passion, staying motivated in your writing, and building a thriving writing career—one where you have agency and autonomy, rather than being at the whims of a mercurial market. (Preorders are live for the e-book now; trade and hardcover are available on release day, and audio comes out later this fall.)
How about you, authors—do you know what creative “success” looks like to you? Is it tied to specific goalposts, or does it have to do with the way you live it, day to day?
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16 Comments. Leave new
Tiffany, thank you so much for Betty’s story,
I will be 70 next month, and I never got the memo: “Give it up, you hopeless dreamer.”
At the age of 65 and when the pandemic came, I quit my job, and I got to write all day, every day – a dream finally come true (and in my pjs too!).
I have a saying over my desk by Akira Kurosawa: “To be an artist means never to avert your gaze.”
I never have.
I guess Betty has the same thing over her desk!
Best wishes,
Val
Oh, Val, I love this–good on you! That was definitely another takeaway I loved from Betty’s story: how she just keeps growing and creating, and age is no matter. That’s one of the lovely things about this career, among many.
Creativity is so nourishing and vivifying–I’m happy to hear you’re enjoying dedicating yourself to yours. Good luck with your writing! And thanks for sharing this.
One note: She is in her nineties, which means she has already lived nine decades, so she is in her 10th decade.
And now we know why I work with words, not numbers. 🙂 Thanks, Gilbert–updated!
Love this post so much. Thank you!
Thanks, Leslie! I loved Betty’s story too.
I read that article in the Times when it came out and was fascinated by it, too. I love how it touches on a truth that when you give, you receive.
My definition of success is about following and sharing creativity in whatever form that takes, so I love this.
And I love the Book Tree on your cover! I want to wander in a forest of book trees!
Congratulations on your new publication. Putting it on my wish list.
Ha–I love the idea of a forest of book trees! Thanks re: the cover–my designer, the marvelous Domini Dragoone, is a wizard. I hope you enjoy the book! It’s been a heart project for me, especially seeing what seems like more and more authors struggling in today’s publishing environment.
I had the same reaction about Betty’s story–I really loved how her community is there for her now that she needs them. And I sire your definition of success–connecting with people over our creative work is so rewarding. Thanks for the comment, Ada.
I love your cover. It’s bright, it’s inspiring, and it’s, somehow, hopeful.
I wrote while learning the craft. I wrote while I was ill for years. I wrote—more than ever—when the pandemic hit and I lost my job. In the midst of all that, I also created a world and filled it with amazing characters.
I’m 65 now and I want that people have the opportunity to visit that world and meet those characters. Maybe, just maybe, they’ll find something they need on that world with the bright, blue moon.
For me, I’ll have fulfilled a lifelong dream and published (late this autumn, to start). If I’m fortunate, I’ll generate a small income in my retirement. In the end, though, it’ll be about sharing. I love these stories and can read them whenever I want to. I hope that’s the case for someone else with a hollow inside they need to fill.
What a beautiful explanation of what drives you as a writer, Christina. The foundation of the ideas in my new book are built in no small part on knowing–concretely and clearly–what that motivating force, that core desire relative to your writing–is for you, so you can build a fulfilling career on it. It sounds like you’ve already defined that for yourself, and that it’s already allowing you to find fulfillment in your writing career. That’s the heart of it!
Thanks for the comments on the cover–I’m thrilled with it, and the impressions you took from it are much of what I wanted it to convey. So thanks! And thank you for sharing this.
Yep, that’s a life well lived. I’d no sooner finished reading the NYT article when I noticed the song that had ear wormed its way into my head. Jimmy Buffet’s ‘He Went to Paris’
Great cover for your forthcoming book. Your design is both distinct and evocative of Tree of Life imagery. Very fitting.
And what does creative ‘success’ look like to me. Goal posts or a way of living? I think sometimes we speak of such things backwards. When we say someone has ‘a creative streak’, ‘creative ability’ or simply ‘creativity’. I’m not so sure we have those things so much as they have us. That this thing we call creativity is way more an unalterable way of being than an accessory item. A creative nature; that ability to exist beyond what already is, always aware of a realm of possibilities waiting to be born. Can we turn it on and off on a whim? My hunch is that a creative personality will always perceive and process the world differently, more inclined to see the trees than the forest. And it’s that sense of trees, of components, that fuels our ability to think ‘imagine if . . .’ The tragic misfortune is when the realities of our existence, or self imposed shackles of should (we should do this, we shouldn’t be that), or some combination of both close in and deny us outlets and opportunities to live and work as who we are. We don’t suffocate as such, we can breath just fine, but we no longer exhale.
Maybe it comes down to detours vs dead ends. Just as the detour may turn out to be more scenic than the route originally chosen, or the twenty minutes it adds to the drive allows for a critical but long overdue conversation. Other times a dead end is a dead end is a dead end . . .I think our natures are malleable. Responding and interacting with our external circumstances. . . we first want to make our mark, and then comes the lifetime of revising, embellishing, more fully creating what exactly that mark will be. But over time that mark becomes more an more a reflection of ourselves and less a regurgitation of what at age 20 or 30 we thought maybe it should be.
Oh, great song, Garry, if you have to have one stuck in there. 🙂 Thanks for the comments on the book cover! I am enchanted with it too–this was one of the first suggestions my designer, Domini Dragoone, offered, and as soon as I saw it, I knew it was the right image.
And nice segue with the trees into your thoughts on creativity. 🙂 I love the way you frame a creative mindset; I do think it gives us a different way of looking at things. I think about this subject a lot too–I believe that creativity is a human instinct, universal to all of us, but I think you’re right that we have to nurture it. And so often our environment can make that hard, whether it’s the practicalities of the world, or the people around us who may, unintentionally or not, cause that tender little impulse to retreat. Creativity is a vulnerable mindset and I think it can be hard to hold on to that nakedness, the openness, in certain surroundings.
But yes, we’re mutable creatures, all of us, as you say–always evolving, especially if we let ourselves and lean into how we may change and grow over our lifetimes. Maybe keeping hold of that creative side of us is what makes creatives more open to those changes? Thanks for the thought-provoking comments.
Your words, “we have to nurture it.” and “Creativity is a vulnerable mindset and I think it can be hard to hold on to” From everything I’ve read here, it seems that is very much some of what you’re addressing with your new book. Thank you.
As an aside, when Jimmy wrote ‘He Went to Paris’ in the early 1970s he was in his mid twenties. His inspiration was a pair of people he’d known who were close to if not in their nineties at the time. The specifics of the song were purely of his own creation. I’ve long admired the artistry of stepping into and rendering a story and character so far removed from his lived experiences.
Jimmy was of course regarded as a great storyteller in song. But his gift was his openness to the stories of others. Even in the pre Margaritaville years when there was ample reason to doubt a future in music, his creative nature endured. I think it would be temptingly easy for someone playing to a half empty bar to emotionally shut down. Not so much give up on ‘making it’ in music, but mute the openness and vulnerability that fuels expression of our unique takes on our wherevers and whatevers.
Jimmy said it better than I can . . .’the new albums old and I’m fresh out of songs. But I know that I’ll get ’em, I know that they’ll come. Through the people and places . . .’ But its easy to lose faith in that ability to react and respond. Even if we’re surrounded by pirates looking at forty and sons of sons of sailors.
It is indeed exactly what I address in the new book–among many other topics, Garry.
Love your insights about Jimmy Buffett–I agree, he was a storyteller, and I love how he carved his career to suit the life he wanted (another topic in the book!). I’m thinking you’ve been a subscriber long enough to have seen this, but if not, I wrote a post about Buffett when he died: https://foxprinteditorial.com/2023/09/07/jimmy-buffett-teaches-artists-how-to-live/
Hi! Loved ur words on Betty:) She is having a book signing at The Stoned Crow (aka PubKey now). I love her so! Maybe you can come if u are around.
https://www.eventbrite.com/e/phoebe-the-cats-party-book-signing-at-the-stoned-crow-aka-pubkey-tickets-1083798162479?aff=eivtefrnd&utm-campaign=social%2Cemail&utm-content=attendeeshare&utm-medium=discovery&utm-source=strongmail&utm-term=listing
Oh, thanks for sharing this with me, Danielle! I would love to come to this if I lived in the area, but sadly I don’t. Please wish Betty and Ian very happy from me.