German band Trigger Cut was set to light up the UK stage, but alas, the infamous border guards had other plans. Apparently, the mere fact that these musicians have day jobs was the ultimate deal-breaker. Because, you know, how dare they attempt to balance their creative dreams with the mundane reality of employment?
“I know very few musicians who are solely musicians,” quips Glaswegian guitarist Kevin Cahill. It appears that unless you’re rolling in cash or teetering on the edge of financial ruin, a second job is the norm for most creatives. Kevin, inspired by the White Stripes’ album *Elephant* back in his teenage years, now juggles being a classically trained guitarist and half of the ambient duo Cahill//Costello. And yes, he teaches music too—because who doesn’t love a good balancing act, right?
We call it the ‘glass floor’ – and boy, do some of the best drop out.
A similar predicament plagues poet and novelist Kit Fan, who spends his days as a full-time governance manager at Hull York Medical School. Ah, the glamorous life of a poet! He snagged two Northern Writers’ awards but still has to clock in for a nine-to-five. “Most writers I know have a second job,” he remarks. Apparently, starving artists is more of a motivational poster cliché than a viable career path.
After acquiring a poetry-related PhD in York, Fan admits his writing career was more spontaneous than strategic. “I value economic stability,” he shares, hinting that the poetic life of artisanal coffee and existential dread wasn’t exactly on his vision board. He reserves his writing for weekends and evenings, vowing never to “self-blame” for not penning the next great novel. Who knew finding time to write could be such a high-pressure sport?
Take stand-up comedian Sikisa Bostwick-Barnes, who performs several times a week but still needs to moonlight as an immigration lawyer. “It’s common for comedians to have a side hustle unless you’re cashing in on a Netflix special,” she quips. Even in high demand, she clocks in four days a week to help out clients, while juggling her comedy gigs. “There’s a backstory you don’t see,” she says, charmingly obscuring the fact that she’s running two exhausting careers like a well-oiled circus.
Second jobs are the hidden backbone of creative industries, asserts Orian Brook of the University of Edinburgh, co-author of *Culture Is Bad for You*. From 2015 to 2021, creative types like actors and musicians were more than twice as likely to have a side gig than their non-artistic counterparts. And let’s not kid ourselves—the number could be even higher, especially among full-time freelancers who are too busy hustling to fill out surveys.
Cahill, Fan, and Bostwick-Barnes have tasted success, yet still find themselves tethered to side jobs. “Most writers don’t earn a lot,” Fan laments. Apparently, the romanticized notion of a full-time writer living off thrilling royalties is as mythical as unicorns. The ALCS reported that the median earnings for authors are now only a staggering £7,000 a year. If only you could pay rent with dreams and metaphorical richness!
Charity Arts Emergency, which guides aspiring creatives from underrepresented backgrounds, grapples with the ethical dilemma of sending young people into these financially precarious industries. “We often question if we should be steering people into these roles,” admits co-founder Neil Griffiths. “It’s important, but so often it can be a suffocating struggle.” This call to arms resonates amidst a lack of support for those trying to break the glass ceiling—or should I say, the glass floor, considering the risks of falling through.
Despite their challenges, our talented trio manages to find silver linings in their grueling dual careers. “Teaching is humbling; it reminds me why I love music,” says Cahill, ever the optimistic mentor who insists on instilling hope in his students. Meanwhile, Bostwick-Barnes finds her law career fulfilling, helping those in need while creating her comedic craft. “If it weren’t for my day job, the jokes might not have the same bite,” she muses, showcasing a delightful mix of irony and practicality.
Fan enjoys the synergy between both his jobs, claiming they’re symbiotic. “There’s an economic reason, but I also want to stay in touch with the world,” he explains. Sounds cozy! But let’s not forget: the romantic vision of artistry hinges dangerously on maintaining a sustainable income—or lack thereof.
All three creatives share a common burden: pursuing passion and picking up the pieces in an industry that frequently forgets to pay its artists. “If you want a world-leading creative sector, you’ve got to pay artists to survive. Let’s make it a space where simply surviving isn’t the best that we aspire to!” Griffiths concludes, echoing the universal truth that creativity and financial security, much like oil and water, do not mix well. Unless, of course, you’re in the mood for a splash of sarcasm along the way.
