How Luck Affects Your Writing/Art Career

There’s a certain way “luck” seems to work in the arts

Photo by RDNE Stock project via Pexels.

Today I’d like to talk about something a bit different, like making a living from writing as an artist.

By “artist,” I mean writing that isn’t focused on creating “content” to build an email list, sell products and services, and generate a following that will bring me more potential customers to increase my sales. Instead, the focus would be on pursuing the craft further, pushing the boundaries of my creativity and perspective, and building a readership who isn’t there for quick “reader takeaways” but to experience my art.

In short, I wanted to become the kind of writer/artist you see in books and movies.

The kind who can afford an upper-middle/upper-class (not even rich!) lifestyle purely from writing literary novels.

Now, I used to hate considering luck in the success equation. After all, isn’t blaming “luck” a cowardly way to refuse ownership and accountability for your career success?

But I’ve tried most things that would launch an artist-writer’s career: I’ve earned a few literary awards and fellowships, published in reputable journals that paid well, brought out a novel that readers mostly liked, and edited a book published by a Big 5 Publisher.

And my nagging realization is that you will need more luck than you think if you want to pursue writing mostly as an art and less as a means for building a business or personal brand.

But this is useless, John! Every professional writer already knows that. There’s no point stressing over something you have no control over!

No, we don’t control our luck. But there is a certain way this “luck” seems to work, and we as artists/writers need to understand it better.

What “luck” really means

In one of the writing workshops I joined, we discussed a short story of mine called, “The Average of All Mediocre Success.”

It’s about a musician in his thirties who, after more than a decade of consistently pursuing music, still can’t afford to feed himself and pay his bills purely from his music income.

During the discussion, one of the workshop panelists commented: “Is it the musician’s talent that is mediocre? Or is it just his success?”

This comment struck me because it highlights a crucial distinction often overlooked in discussions about success: the difference between talent and opportunity. While skill can be developed and honed, the conditions surrounding an artist’s life — such as their connections, financial security, access to capital and influential networks — are often determined by luck.

The first thing we don’t have control over is the circumstances of our birth. Being born to well-off parents who typically interact with successful artists will make your life and career much easier. You can afford to pursue your art with less financial constraints. And you’re born into a close-knit circle of people who can both mentor you in your craft and connect you with others who can help grow your career.

A good contemporary case study is the DJ and record producer Fred Again. (Big fan of his music, by the way).

Fred’s parents have blood ties with British royalty, and he grew up being neighbors with the English musician Eno — who would eventually help mentor a teenage Fred and collaborate with him on a few projects. These projects would later help Fred work with other artists like George Ezra, Demi Lovato, Rita Ora, and Ed Sheeran. Eventually, Fred started producing his own songs, and these became so popular that his live performances have sold out in large venues.

Several things to think about: Considering Fred’s social network of high-profile collaborators and mentors — was it his talent that made him successful? Or a combination of talent and network? (Of course, Fred’s hard work and consistency are a given. I don’t know any artist who succeeded without those). Is Fred even really “talented” in the first place and not simply surrounded by the right type of people who taught him the trade and helped make his art shine?

The Cambridge Dictionary defines talent as “a natural skill or ability to be good at something, especially without being taught.”

That’s something you’re born with. That’s luck.

Here’s where things get more complicated.

Talent impacts an artist’s career differently compared to other fields

“Talent” in the arts doesn’t work the same way as it does in other fields. That’s because art is highly subjective, with few guidelines for objectivity.

Take athletes, for example.

Dean Karnazes, the “ultramarathon man,” is capable of running for three days and nights without stopping. Literally. Karnazes has a rare genetic condition that allows his body to rapidly flush lactic acid from his system, so he can keep running fast for long periods without burning his muscles out. With training, Karnazes can outrun the most elite athletes in the world — and he has!

It’s very easy to judge who wins an ultramarathon: Whoever runs fastest for the longest period without tiring will eventually reach the finish line first.

The same cannot be said for writers.

Ernest Hemingway is a classic example of a talented and highly trained writer. He’s also a big success, and his writing style is still being emulated to this day.

There’s another talented writer: Franz Kafka. But Kafka died in obscurity at age 40. It wasn’t until much later that his work finally got some recognition.

The main difference between Hemingway and Kafka is that people of Hemingway’s time appreciated his work while he was alive. People during Kafka’s time read his work, discarded it, forgot about it, and then switched to Joseph Conrad or H.G. Wells instead.

This is why even talented writers can achieve mediocre (or no) success.

The subjectivity of art can work for or against you. And you don’t have much say in it.

Rupi Kaur and Lang Leav are criticized for being supposedly bad poets.

Kaur has even become a meme. The memes make fun of her simplistic poetry style and the idea that you can put arbitrary line breaks in anything and call it “poetry.”

You’ll notice that if you put the lines together, like in normal sentences, the words flow typically. But it looks more “poetic” this way. Alternatively, this could also look like lyrics to a Katy Perry song. (Poem is a parody of Kaur’s style. NOT an actual piece by Kaur)

Still, both Kaur and Leav are highly popular. Their poetry books sell, and they are among the most viral creators of “instapoetry.”

Are these women simply lucky that they struck a chord among Instagrammers, which led to their book deals and millions of book sales? Are they even really bad poets? Maybe ten or fifty years from now, people will think their poetry is better than, say, Yeats or Maya Angelou.

When it comes to art, both talented and not-so-talented artists can succeed, while other talented and not-so-talented individuals remain obscure. That’s less likely to happen with gifted scientists, athletes with genetic quirks, and gardeners with a “green thumb,” where their results can be evaluated more objectively.

So regardless of your talent (or lack of it), you can succeed or fail as an artist/writer.

When you still want to make art despite not being lucky enough

In a different writing workshop, I once asked a panelist what they say when they read work they don’t like or barely understand but want to be polite. Their answer?

“I say, ‘The intended reader of this piece has not yet been born.’”

The generous interpretation is that the writer is another Franz Kafka, whose appreciative audience will only be born years after their death. (Or maybe they’re writing for an audience who lived a hundred years in the past).

The harsher interpretation would be to say the work itself is not good in terms of craft and doesn’t have an audience to appeal to.

Look, maybe you’ll get your big break one day. Maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll slowly but surely build your writing/art career to the point of greatness. We all wish we would.

But let’s say that despite years of struggle, you still can’t sustainably make money with your art. What then?

The best thing to do, as I’ve learned so far, is to reframe your definition of “success” and keep putting your work out there.

Rupi Kaur’s critics may not see her as a “real” poet, but for her and her fans, her poetry succeeds because it’s relatable and creates a community of people who intimately share her work. It’s great too, of course, that Kaur’s books sell in the millions, so she can afford to write poetry without a day job.

Likewise, Kafka may not have experienced writerly success while he was alive. But had he stopped writing, his stories wouldn’t have even been in circulation for later generations to rediscover.

The key is to focus on the process of artmaking that, in Marie Kondo’s words, “sparks joy” in you.

My new definition of success as a writer/artist

I’ve been a voracious reader since fourth grade, and I wrote my first novel in high school. (Like most novels we wrote in our naive youth, it will never be witnessed by strangers’ eyes). I pursued full-time writing in 2020, so I’ve been writing professionally for over five years now.

But I still view my artist writing career to be in the “beginning” stage.

That’s because there are many things I still want to try with my writing. So a lot of the things I work on are, in a way, experimental for me.

For example, I’ve already published a literary novel. When that novel came out, I realized I wrote it mainly for myself. Now, I want to write something for an audience. I’m working on a speculative fiction novel with a literary writing style. As a short filmmaker, I’m also working on the script for a Young Adult short film, as a kind of test and sample for the bigger, feature-length YA film I have in mind.

What are my definitions of success for these projects?

I want to tell these stories in a way that I’m proud of, and touch my target audience’s soul in an intimate, unique way that — even in their social media, shortening-attention-span doomscrolling stupor — they’ll be reminded of the beauty of art.

It would be great if these eventually make me enough money to become a full-time artist. But if not, as long I executed the two things above, then it’s a win for me.

In the meantime, I’ll continue writing useful pieces for businesses and professionals, while also sharing tips with fellow writers.

I’ll also keep living my life to the fullest. Because in the end, that’s all that really matters.

What do you think?