How to make a living as a NYC creative. (Read this before you take that sh*tty job in film & TV.)

If you want to have a future in film or TV then, for goodness sake, do not take that sh*tty job in film & TV. Go get a job in financial services, make a ton of money and, when you’re fed up with selling your soul for a quick buck, quit and make your dream film. — Professor J.

Artwork by Njogu Kuria

I will never forget those words, spoken by one of my NYU film professors. He was a well-known producer and leading figure of the digital film revolution with a successful slate of indie films under his belt. I was a third year student at NYU Tisch Graduate Film with (maybe) one solid short film under my belt and a mounting load of student debt. To say I was shocked is an understatement; but, at least, I was somewhat prepared for the uphill battle of making a living as a NYC creative.

I got my first degree in biology from Stanford and, realizing that medicine and research weren’t my passions, decided to pursue a more creative (read: crazy) path. I waitressed and did a PR internship my first year after college, then got a global health communications job in Manhattan that paid $40K. I later realized that I didn’t want to have anything more to do with science and quit, taking temp jobs until I cobbled together steady work as a medical copyeditor (falling back on that science degree again), which then paid anywhere from $22-$25/hour, and a blogger for a website, that paid $400/month. I still ended up spending down the savings I’d had from my first job. And by the time I started at NYU Grad Film, I had worked as a PR girl, waitress, blogger, modern dancer, and a host of other jobs and gigs trying to make ends meet.

The work fed my creative appetite and provided plenty of fodder for my student films though, quite literally, it left me starving. I was paying $900/month rent in a two-bedroom in Fort Greene, Brooklyn, where I lived with my bestie, spending the rest of my money on Metrocards, food, and my films. I can remember going completely broke my first year of school, sneaking into the lounge on the 9th floor to steal packets of instant oatmeal and hot chocolate for breakfast despite the sign on the door that read: FACULTY ONLY. Too proud to tell my friends and family, I just starved on those mornings when the door was locked.

Ultimately, I decided to go on leave at the end of my first year. Largely because I was broke, and partly because I had no idea what my creative point-of-view was and it seemed like a giant waste of money. What if I didn’t make it as a filmmaker? Surely I needed a back-up plan. My first year, I was an average student when I was used to being above that. I knew I didn’t stand a chance if I didn’t leave film school as one of the best students there.

So I left school, and went straight back to copyediting work, by then earning anywhere from $25-$35/hour. In the three years I was on leave, I even took some full-time jobs doing arts/film marketing and communications. I worked my way up to a $60K/year salary before, armed with a salary history and backup plan, I went back to school to finish what I started.

The second year was by far the most intense in NYU Tisch’s 3-year graduate film program. And because I had gone on leave, I forfeited the graduate scholarship I had been offered, and had to take out more loans. So I ended up running a crowdfunding campaign to fund my second year project, using some of the skills I’d picked up as a marketing professional. Thankfully, I earned a tuition fellowship for my third year, though I still had to take out loans.

Me, on set, directing one of my student films.

Cut to me in class, nearing $200K in student loan debt, as my professor told us NOT to bother taking a job in the industry we’d been trained for. In certain ways, it confirmed my worst fears about what I’d already experienced anecdotally in the job market: entry-level film jobs don’t pay. While I was on leave, and also in school, I stayed on top of job listings and even worked during my second, third, and thesis years. I noticed that the largest film site, then called Mandy.com (which became Film and TV Pro USA and now, paradoxically, is called The Mandy Network), featured no- and low-/no-paying jobs as a coast-to-coast industry-wide phenomenon. If that wasn’t enough to scare me, the paid jobs weren’t great either.

And jobs posted to our NYU Grad Film list regularly offered rates in the range of $75-$250 for a full day (that’s 12 hours, not 8!) of work. Comparing that to what I was making at my sh*ttiest temp job and I figured I’d rather sit at a desk in an air-conditioned office cutting up resumes (true story) than to drive a cube truck from set in Harlem to Brooklyn, side swipe a parked car, and get sued without earning a dime (also true story).

Image from Vulture.

What my professor said was true, sobering, and sad. But I knew that, unless I became a producer, the film school grads that have the most earning potential out of the gate, I was most likely going to starve before I made it to the Oscars, if I ever did. It just wasn’t “smart” to start out as a menial production assistant while facing $200K in debt, NYC rent, and out-of-pocket health insurance.

(See also: a NY Times article on “altered job prospects” for film school grads.) (See also: the Strategic National Arts Alumni Project, which surveyed careers of 92K+ art school grads from institutions such as Tisch, Columbia, and UCLA, finding a median income of $45K for MFA grads with $15K in student loan debt; see below for a breakdown of all art school grads’ occupations.)

So what did I do?

After graduation, I went back to arts marketing and communications. I later segued to business consulting, joining a small consulting firm run by a Stanford alum that I met through networking. Like most artsy creatives, by then I had performed a variety of jobs at a range of nonprofits, startups, and businesses that had given me translatable skills. And now, I’m able to command a higher hourly rate that allows me to work part-time hours while, on my off days, developing two feature films I’ve been working on for several years (here’s hoping!).

But my professor’s advice came up for me again recently. When a long-term contract gig I had in 2017, through which I was able to save money for the first time in years, abruptly ended at the end of the year, I found myself back at square one. Though I managed to negotiate increasing scope and responsibility in my contract roles, raising the level of my hourly rate and client base, I didn’t have a backup plan for when a client didn’t re-up.

Hungry to take control of my destiny, I’ve started building a new website, learning web analytics, figuring out how to position my services and content in front of the right audiences, so I never have to depend on one or two clients. I have been taking all sorts of classes — financial planning, Google Analytics at General Assembly, business planning at the NYU Entrepreneurial Institute — trying to lifehack my way to financial freedom.

After spending more than $200K at NYU Tisch — not mention what I spent at Stanford for undergrad, when I was a pre-med — it’s only these latest classes (mostly free or affordable through SBDC, SCORE, NYU Entrepreneurial Lab, and General Assembly) that are helping me understand how to think about every aspect of my life as part of a business strategy that either builds or destroys my financial future.

In hindsight, it makes perfect sense that I never took a no- or low-paying production job after graduation; though I don’t remember making a conscious decision about that, my professor’s warning loomed large in the back of my mind. Whether it was the right creative move or not, it simply didn’t make financial sense.

But what I did do improve my financial situation:

• Eventually, I moved into a rent stabilized apartment in Brooklyn. I should have done this the moment I moved to New York, but you do better when you know better! Check out these building lists on the NYC Rent Guidelines Board website.
• I applied for income-based repayment of my student loans. If your federal student loan payments are high compared to your income, you may qualify. Most federal student loans are eligible for at least one income-driven repayment plan. If your income is low enough, your payment could be as low as $0 per month. There are also all sorts of other forgiveness programs that may lower or eliminate your debt entirely. Study up!
• I improved my negotiation skills. With each new contract you sign as a freelancer or creative, you have the opportunity to increase your rate. It’s the equivalent of a salaried employee asking for a raise at the end of every year, except that the end of a contract can happen several times a year. When you have several clients under your belt, use that as leverage to command higher pay. And don’t accept less than your worth; you must be willing to walk away if you want to get to the next level financially.
• I took a full-time job and saved the income for a rainy day. To be honest, if that contract hadn’t ended so abruptly, I’d probably still be there instead of writing this post. I’ve taken several full-time jobs over the years, especially when the organization’s values, management, and mission aligned with mine. If taking a full-time job with health benefits, free coffee, and pre-tax Metrocards in the short run can help you achieve your long-term creative goals, take it. What my professor said was right; there are certain industry hubs in NYC that pay more for temp/entry-level jobs that require fairly few brain cells to accomplish. Search for job opportunities in financial services, law firms, healthcare, and pharmaceutical companies.
• I registered with several employment agencies. In the years in-between my first job and starting NYU, I’ve worked with several agencies that would submit me for jobs with different clients. Basically, the clients outsource hiring to the agencies, so they do all the leg work while you sit at home waiting for an email. I can’t vouch for them now, but the ones I used were Metroproof, Update Creative, Mindlance, Algomod Technologies, and Advertising Executives/David Yontef. (If an agency’s not your thing, Time Out New York has a handy list of side gigs, including everything from cater waitering, to bartending, and becoming a nude model for art classes.)
• I maintained a website, social media pages, LinkedIn profile, and put my resume up on job sites. As much as these all might seem like low-hanging fruit, I’ve consistently gotten leads from people who found me through one of these platforms. Maintaining a consistent web/public presence is the first thing I learned at my first job. Also, and more importantly, use consistent messaging! Please believe if you’re a singer on YouTube, an amateur hula hooper on your website, and a copyeditor on LinkedIn, folks will think you’re confused and rightly so.
• I DID NOT take a job as a teaching artist or adjunct professor. In full disclosure, I applied for a handful of teaching artist positions over the years, usually in-between jobs when I thought a 2-hour job 3 times per week was better than nothing. But what I observed watching other artist friends was they always spent more time planning than they bargained for, got caught up in their students’ projects, or complacent with their steady(ish) paychecks, and never had enough time to work on their own projects. Years down the line, not only were they not tenured professors (as adjuncts don’t qualify) or certified teachers (as teaching artists aren’t required to be), they didn’t have a seasoned body of work to take them to the next level professionally. Paradoxically, it seemed like teaching jobs were one of the worst choices an artist of any type could make (unless you’re a dancer or painter or DJ or other art professions in which your technique and body of work can be part of the class, and who also work in more individualized art professions that don’t require as much collaboration, ie, time every week to pound the pavement and network). I also will note that the treatment of adjunct professors across the board is appalling. Studies report that 31% of part-time faculty live at or below the federal poverty line. Other reports show that a quarter of part-time college academics are enrolled in public assistance programs.
• I cooked my own food. I’m convinced I went broke faster my first year because I was short on time and bought a lot of food on the go. Now that I work, a key part of saving money is making my food at home and bringing my lunch with me. It sounds basic, but most things are!
• I lived with family. I’m most grateful that, for several years, my two older sisters also lived in NYC. There were many years I had to stay on their couches to avoid homelessness. If you have family, don’t be afraid to ask to crash if you need it. Also, don’t be afraid of the outer boroughs. One of my sisters lived in the Bronx and I stayed there 4 years! Also, if you have a significant other whom you really (or kinda) love, moving in together isn’t a bad idea.
• I rediscovered thrifting. Growing up the daughter of immigrants, we never had a lot of money, so my mother was a huge fan of thrift stores. After college, to signify my come-up, I stopped going to them and started buying only brand new clothes. It was only in moving to NYC and going broke that I rediscovered thrift stores, and have somewhat fallen in love with finding a really rare and beautiful garment at a fraction of the price. My new favorite place to shop is the Salvation Army at 536 West 46th Street between 10th and 11th Avenues in Manhattan. I also order clothes from cheap sites like Shein and Romwe, and generally keep all clothing and beauty purchases to a minimum (ie, I don’t get my nails done, I do my hair myself, and only occasionally get my brows done)!
• I got Obamacare. Why I give thanks for our 44th President! One of the most challenging aspects of freelance work is lack of health benefits. Something that really empowered me to make better choices was not having my healthcare tied to a particular job I was doing at the time. If you didn’t get the memo yet, visit the NYS Health Marketplace and search for a plan.
• I applied for unemployment in between gigs. I’ve met so many upstanding folks, struggling to survive in between gigs, who think unemployment is for the down-and-out. I never quite understand this thinking. In New York State, employers pay contributions that fund Unemployment Insurance. It is not deducted from your paycheck. The Department of Labor decides if you qualify for benefits based on the reasons for your loss of work. It’s there to support you through loss of work and doesn’t have a “negative connotation” unless you give it one. I file an unemployment claim on the first day of the first week of work loss, because the labor department builds in an “unpaid waiting week” at the beginning of your claim.
• Though I never did, you can also apply for Section 8, SNAP, and other public assistance. After writing about unemployment above, it occurred to me that the reason most friends give for not applying for unemployment benefits is they think it’s welfare, and should be for “low-income” people. First of all, assistance programs are a social good and don’t have a “negative connotation” unless we give them one. (I also like to remind folks that WalMart is the single largest drain on public assistance programs.) Secondly, most full- or part-time artists in NYC are spending more than 51% of income on rent, which puts them in the category of a severely cost-burdened household. One of my sisters, an MBA, would always remind me that, with my Stanford degree or not, I was the living definition of poverty. I certainly feel that my New York years, when they’re behind me, will represent my greatest understanding of income and housing instability. It’s up to you how you deal with those realities, but these programs are there to help. Feel free to post links below on Section 8 and SNAP, as I don’t believe I’ve ever read any discourse on them on LinkedIn.

Let’s face it: it takes a lot to make a living in the city — paying for rent, health insurance, Metrocards, groceries, and the occasional movie ticket to see Black Panther.

I’d love to hear from you: what tough financial decisions have you made for your art, creative business, or life? Let’s discuss! (For what it’s worth, I still think LinkedIn could and should do better for creatives.)

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Iquo B. Essien is a writer, filmmaker, and creative consultant. She’s currently crowdfunding her debut feature, Back Home. Follow her on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and LinkedIn. For more info, visit: www.iquomma.com

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