One thing you hear me say a lot is, “don’t put pressure on your dream.”

I always think of my creative process and the relationship with my dream the way I would a relationship with a lover. If I have heavy expectations of it/them, if I am demanding or self serving, if I am always asking it/them to provide for me, they are gonna walk.

Too many of us believe falsely that we are “limiting” our creativity or our faith in the Universe to provide for us by having support jobs. We are as Liz Gilbert tells us in BIG MAGIC being “cruel to our work.”

Having another job or source of income not only takes pressure off of your creativity but it shows your creativity that you are a good steward of it. You are dependable and will take care of it. It can trust you.

A great prosperity game to play is proving to yourself and the Universe that you are a trustworthy source with money. You play this game by committing to put a small sum of money away each week. $5. Yes. Just $5.

Now to “win” the game you must DO WHAT YOU SAY.
You must every single week without fail put $5 in the bank.
Even if in another account you are 20 grand in debt.
Show up for your $5 contribution, week after week, as you said you would.

You show the Universal forces that you mean business. You mean and do what you say.
You are trustworthy with that $5 you are given each week. So now you get to have more.

And so long as your word and actions stay in integrity, you will be given more and more.

I believe this same game works with creating.
You are given more and more, as you prove you are ready and able.

If we are busy putting pressure on our dreams to take care of US, instead of always showing how we are actively taking care of it, my experience is, the dream is too afraid to fully step into your pool.

Liz says, “I never wanted to burden my writing with the responsibility of paying for my life. I have watched so many other people murder their creativity by demanding that their art pay the bills. I’ve seen artists drive themselves broke and crazy because of this insistence that they are not legitimate creators unless they can exclusively live off their creativity.”

In an industry where NO JOB is forever, (unless perhaps you are a series regular on Law and Order, but even still, it ended after 20 seasons!) it is completely crazy to say to your creativity, “you better take care of me!”

Creativity is a gift.
It doesn’t owe you anything.

“I’ve always felt this is so cruel to your work — to demand a regular paycheck from it, as if creativity were a government job or a trust fund.”

And more than being unfair to creativity, it is actually a disservice to you.
It is not your job to remain a child who needs someone or something to take care of it. Part of the maturation process is learning to know yourself in the strength of your ability to parent yourself. To heal and give yourself as an adult what wasn’t given to you as a child. To become the person you want to be and are proud of.

I would guess that you would be much more proud to be strong, self sufficient and standing in your power as a creator and good parent to your dreams then to be one who is taken care of by someone or something else.

“This is a world not a womb. You can look after yourself in this world while looking after your creativity at the same time — just as people have done for ages. What’s more, there is a profound sense of honor to be found in looking after yourself, and that honor will resonate powerfully in your work; it will make your work stronger.”

“There’s no dishonor in having a job. What is dishonorable is scaring away your creativity by demanding that it pays for your entire existence.”

This thing you are reading right now?

This is my job. It’s a gift. So were the 13 years I waited tables. So were the years I was a dog training assistant and an ice cream scooper and a dish washer. How lucky am I that I am an artist, who is here to tell stories of humanity and I have gotten to do so many jobs, and connect so fully to the experience of being human?

That’s my real job. And yours too.


Jen Rudolph