From Emily (she/her):
Do you think it is possible to have a thriving theater career while only pursuing it part time? Given the hustle it takes and the amount of networking, have you seen others successfully make progress in both careers?
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Dear Emily,
Fefu 1: Great question. Short answer: no. Long answer: yes.
Short answer (no): At some point, you need to give it your all to see if you can make it. Most artists who eventually find success take a leap of faith at a certain scary moment when it feels like they can leave the security job. This is usually indicated by the demand on your time from the art exceeding the time you would spend on a day career job. AKA you are getting a lot of offers, productions, workshops, etc. The money may barely make sense at this point, but there is a palpable flow.
Long answer (yes): Some people continue to have two jobs and a great amount of success! But here is where the term success becomes tricky. Your definition of “success” may change. For example, when I was 22 and working at a large Off-Broadway theater as a fellow, my boss lamented not being able to pay to get his apartment professionally painted. I scoffed. I’d NEVER need money for that! I’d ALWAYS want to paint it myself! What’s the big deal! Fast forward. I’m now 38. The idea of finding the time and energy to paint my home myself overwhelms me. I also think–nah– know, I’d do a shitty job. I’m not detail-oriented when it comes to visuals and I just LOVE color so I’d really go for it, only to realize later how insane my walls look. I’d much rather pay someone who knows what they are doing to A) consult and B) paint. So that’s probably two people!? And I’m not paying two people to paint…so back we are to me painting. BUT at this point I’ve had a rich career in theater and know people who paint sets professionally…so I’ll pay them and learn alongside them. Life works out. That’s what I call success.
See?
WAY too long an answer. To me, I am successful if I work with artists I love on projects that make my heart sing, no matter the scale. Bonus points if they are at traditionally successful venues, but the real aspect that matters is the nature of the collaboration and if I am growing as an artist. And yes, I should get a freaking stipend at the very least.
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Fefu 2: I think the key here is if you define "thriving" in economic or artistic terms. My own definition of thriving used to be synonymous with "high volume," which shifted as I've gotten older and moved beyond institutional work. I dramaturged more productions when I was a full-time staff member, but I also devoted thousands of hours of my one wild and precious life to mediocre creative processes, UN-level diplomacy, and writing flowery program notes about odious people.
Now, I work on fewer plays and have an unglamorous 9-5. This would've horrified my late-20s #girlboss-pilled self, but it works for the 40-year-old version of me. I developed a healthier relationship with work: jobs are economic contracts, not the foundation of my identity and self-worth. I have more agency over my artistic career, which means I have more time that actually belongs to me, undiluted by institutional compromise. I get to say no. I get to say yes only when I mean it.
I do spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about what my career would look like if at any point in the last two decades I was splitting living expenses or household responsibilities (beyond my five-year group house stint, a DC rite of passage for the young non-profiteer, shout-out to all the lawyers I lived with), or if I could've hopped on a spouse's health insurance coverage. (America financially incentivizes partnership!)
If Bills, Bills, Bills has taught me anything, it's that there is a constellation of advantages enabling many theater artists in this country—a whole hidden infrastructure of spousal income, family money, rent-controlled apartments inherited from dead grandmothers, and other economic cushioning that nobody mentions but that determines who gets to keep making work. (I'm not immune from privilege either; the absence of student loans fully enabled my early career.)
So do I think it's possible to have a thriving theater career while only pursuing it part-time? I think it depends on what story you're willing to tell about your own life and what success metrics you're willing to abandon. I think it's possible if you can make peace with the fact that "part-time" might be a healthier relationship with an industry that has never quite figured out how to value its workers.
Maybe thriving is simply the radical act of still being here and making work on your own terms. Maybe it's learning to measure success not by how much you produce but by how much of yourself you get to keep.
