At Breathing Space Creative we’re here to change the story society tells about artists. It starts with each creative believing their life and work matter, and grows into a world that finally sees the arts as essential. To do this, it starts with the self work.
Every month I’ll pick a common societal belief about writers/artists that are largely untrue today, and share a personal story about how I’ve personally and professionally said no with love to that and how we can all slowly start to reimagine artists role in this world. It’s more urgent now than ever.
This month let’s say no with love to this:
“The arts are a hobby, not a career.”
Reader,
This past summer I went to a big gala for a writer who’d just won a major prize. And honestly, you know me, those kinds of events aren’t really my scene. Half the reasons are tiny, half are logistical… all very “me.” There’s rarely a quiet corner where you can actually talk to someone without shouting over clinking glasses. Unless you want to hide out and have a private conversation in the bathroom, LOL.
But I’ve learned my little ways of showing up for those nights. In addition to my pre and post event rituals, I scan for the folks tucked away in less crowded spots, and drift toward them. That’s how I ended up in this long, winding conversation with another writer about mentorship… which eventually slid into paid mentorship. And whew, she had a very strong opinion: She said that writers shouldn’t have to pay to grow their craft and their process, and the mentors doing that deep work shouldn’t be paid either.
I took a pause; that necessary breathing room before I replied. But thinking back to that moment, and basically telling her that it was "an interesting opinion" here's what I could have said:
Where was that thinking even coming from? We’d never look at doctors or engineers and say, “Well, surely you shouldn’t have to pay to learn your craft.” So why is it different for us?
And that’s when something clicked for me.
The first shift was language. I wanted to shift the word “pay” to “invest.” Because that’s what we’re really doing when we work with a therapist, see a healthcare practitioner, or hire another writer to guide us. We’re investing in ourselves and in the work we want to create. We’re saying, “This matters. I matter.”
And when we (as artists) also invest in other artists ... their time, their energy, their ideas, and the wider world gets to witness that? Oof! That’s when conditions start to change. That’s where a different creative future begins.
That other way of thinking (that we shouldn't be paid) keeps the “starving artist” myth alive. It feeds this idea that the only legitimate way to make a living as a writer is to hope your book becomes a bestseller or that you magically build some massive platform. It tells new writers coming up that anything outside of selling books is somehow “less than.” Oh no thanks!!
oh to be a fly on the wall of those notebook pages LOLOL ; )
But there’s such a wider world (ahem… ecosystem… ahem) available to us if we actually name and value the creative (and non-creative) labour, evolutions, and "aha's' that happen long before there’s a book in someone’s hands. How does it all intersect? All the invisible process work, the emotional digging, the daily choices, we have to honour that first. When we value it, others eventually catch up. It might take decades, but honestly? I’m committed. I’m not going anywhere. I hope you'll stick with me.
And of course, bell hooks is at the table with me as always. So much of this comes back to language and how slippery it is, how fast we misunderstand each other because we’re using the same words but meaning completely different things. “Mentorship” is a perfect example. “Career” is another. The way I see mentorship, it’s this robust, deeply personal, long-haul kind of offering. It’s not just reading someone’s pages and giving notes. It asks me to wear a coaching hat when a creative is stuck. It asks me to slow down and put on my mindfulness facilitator hat when a creative is overwhelmed. It asks me to slip into my entrepreneur hat when a writer has an idea that could shift their income or open up a new path. It calls on so many hats at precisely the right time, which is exactly why I think of myself as a creative practitioner now. I keep many-a-hat in my toolbox, ready to be put on as needed. I have to feel, moment by moment, which hat to put on, why it’s needed, and how long to stay there. For me, it's a lifelong relationship.
That’s big work. And that, to me, is exactly what an investment looks like.
I’ve put off writing about this moment for a while, but over the last two seasons I promised myself I’d speak more loudly about how creatives can build a whole ecosystem around their work. And it’s funny… so many writers and creatives in other fields keep saying, “Chelene, it feels like you’re on the verge of something big.” I’ve been holding that close.
What we celebrate matters. The creative world is full of external milestones ... awards, events, lists. They’re not bad! They’re great. But we can’t pretend those shiny moments weren’t built on years of unseen labour. There’s a reason people still think writing is just a person at a typewriter banging out pages. There’s a bigger cultural story we’ve all absorbed, and it’s overdue for a rewrite.
And then ... totally different world, but stay with me—two weeks ago my cousin’s football team won the Grey Cup. He’s the head coach for the Roughriders, and while I don’t know much about sports (I really don’t!), I do know the Grey Cup is a huge deal. My phone was blowing up with excited texts from my mom, and I felt that pride too.
Corey Mace in his element
In this article about the win my cousin spoke briefly about the behind the scenes stuff: “I thought it was really cool. It gave people a little bit of insight. There’s a ton more that goes into getting the team out there, but that’s a great starting point. I think people understand a bit more what it’s like.”
I loved that. Shining a light, even if just briefly, on the value what the viewers don't see. Ahh, much love cuz! We are more alike than I thought!!
It also brought me back to the same two questions writers always get asked the second we tell someone what we do:
“So… what have you written?” “Do you get paid for that?”
No wonder so many writers hesitate to claim the title. If we haven't published (and maybe don't want to), if we haven't been paid (yet), are we still writers?
So if we can slowly shift how wider society sees artists, maybe we also shift the questions we get asked. Maybe the conversation gets deeper, more curious. Maybe it stops being about output and starts being about practice. But we have to start asking ourselves the questions first, right? It really does start with the self.
Creativity became my career not because it was an easy choice, but because it wasn’t. I’ve made uncomfortable decisions, let myself be seen, said no, said yes, stretched, rebuilt, started over, wandered off-path, come back again. I’ve asked the hard questions. Now I'm ready to share what I believe without leaving any piece of me on the table somewhere.
Last week, I had a call with a potential client who said, “Chelene, you have an incredible reputation in this industry. You come highly recommended. But you do things differently. I’ve talked to other mentors and editors, but no one else works the way you do. How did you get here?”
And in that moment, I felt it: the shift. People are starting to ask the right questions.
I wrote about "our creative path forward" on the Anansi blog last week, about our creative path forward. Please give it a read.
I refuse to let anyone diminish the depth of this work by calling it a hobby. But for you, if it is a hobby, that's okay too. And hey, you don’t have to build a giant business to claim your creativity. One workshop, one message, one clear why—that’s enough to begin.
For many of us, this isn’t a hobby. This is a whole way of being and living. And it deserves to be valued from the inside out.
Reflect + Rewrite
This Week's Reflection Question: What question do you want to be asked when you say "I'm an artist?"
After answering the reflection question, revisit what you wrote. Is there a single line—just one—that surprised you? Maybe it stirred something. Maybe it made you pause. Copy that line out. Sit with it. As always, if you feel called, I’d love to see it. Hit reply and share it with me.
Have a creative "myth" that you'd like me to explore in one of these monthly letters? Please share it and I just might add it to my queue ; )
See you next month! If this letter moved you in some way, please forward it to a friend.
with love, Chelene
Founder, Breathing Space Creative
Want to explore more of my work? I offer bespoke writing mentorships, creative support calls, and free creative resources through my studio. But for now, just take what you need. I’ll be here.
What's happenin' in the studio:
Every month, I’ll share a little peek into what’s happening inside the wider Breathing Space Creative studio. We shift things seasonally, so if something sparks your interest, take a look while it’s still in this season’s mix.
Our Winter Freebie: The Breathe IN Reflective Writing Kit By becoming your own practitioner first, you’ll learn how to build a reflective writing practice that reveals what’s asking to be carried forward into your creative work, your personal growth, or the wider ecosystem of your life.
Inside, you’ll learn how to:
Build your chart—your emotional and creative “baseline”
Spot patterns you didn’t know you were repeating
Turn your writing into decisions, not just reflection
Know exactly what insights belong in your project, your personal work, or your wider creative ecosystem.
Our Winter Workshop: The Breathe IN Workshop This one-hour pay-what-you-can session invites you to pause, breathe, and listen differently—to yourself, your work, and the quiet patterns shaping your days. Inspired by my Breathe IN Method, this workshop uses writing as a reflective tool to help you notice what’s surfacing beneath the surface—what’s asking to be seen, understood, or carried forward.
Recommended Creative Investment |Literary Grant Support with Yolande House For many of us, grants are a key part of sustaining our work. Working with Yolande has helped me not just with a specific grant project, but also to see grant work as an essential part of a thriving creative ecosystem. I highly recommend checking out her offerings.
