I've had this column in mind since day one, but I'm just now sitting down to write it. I want to talk about the good and bad sides of being a creative type with a "Joe job." There are people out there who are blessed enough to make a good living off their creative talents. The rest of us have to take extra jobs and put our dreams on the sidelines for at least a few hours a day.

There are some good things about this and some bad things. I want to go over both, because the 9-to-5 grind is probably scarier than any monster I can dream up. I don't mind working, but I hate work. And if that sounds like a contradiction, read on and you'll get an explanation.
 

WORKING HARD OR HARDLY WORKING
I honestly believe that people who can work a regular job their entire life and be happy at that are lucky. I really wish I didn't have this need to write. But it's really one of the few things I'm good at. (Though maybe not good enough.)

With creativity has also come insomnia, low self-esteem, self-obsession, and quite a few other weird little tics I could do with out. There are days where I'd much rather be a shoe salesmen than a writer. And I think that's true of anyone in the arts. Most folks just don't want to admit it.

Being creative isn't that important in the larger scheme of things, either. You entertain people and hopefully touch them emotionally. But you don't grow them food, mend them when they're ill, or protect them from crime. Plus, there are thousands of us and only really room for a handful of people to be successful. So artistic people really aren't part of any cultural elite like they often think they are. We're just one more cog in our planet's machine. Hopefully we serve a purpose, but sometimes I wonder if we really do.

I won't lie to you. There are days where I feel different. When I take great joy in writing. When I feel special. But today isn't one of those days. Today I feel worked down to a nub.

Part of it is my current night job. The job title is butcher. I work around 18 to 24 hours weekly. Part time by anyone's standard, but it's just enough to drive a lot of the creative energies from me.

Because of this, I've often avoided getting a side-job. I'll knuckle down and do it when money is tight, but Jami makes a good living so a lot of the times she just lets me bum around the house, do the domestic stuff, and write my little heart out.

I've had a lot of different jobs over the years. I worked in a coffee bar my first year in Dallas. I did warehouse work for a Halloween costume wholesaler after that. I even worked as an Elvis impersonator very briefly.

None of it stuck.

So - although they sometimes bug - I nevertheless marvel at the hard-working guys around me right now. They go in to work, put up with some of the most annoying customers you can imagine, and do the job. And while this might not be the life some of them would have chosen for themselves, they're okay with where they are.

I never feel at ease personally. It just feels like yet another stop on my life's journey. I'm just doing it for the paycheck, and it doesn't even feel like real work to me. I gain no satisfaction other than the money made and knowing I've helped support our household. It's not the same feeling I get when I know I've told a good story.

That feels like my real work. It feels natural and normal. There are no awkward feelings at all. While I make no claims of being a literary genius, it does feel like what I was born to do.
 

THE CALLING
My buddy Park once referred to writing as a calling. Akin to the priesthood I suppose. I kind of agree with him. I think those that write don't really have a choice in the matter. You're born to it.

Talent doesn't even come into the picture. There are more untalented writers than ones with the spark. A writer writes. It's as simple as that.

But the world ain't set up for writers (or painters or actors for that matter). So most of ending up working at Starbucks or something. But here's something that I reckon a lot of you won't agree with. I think that's a good thing for us artsy-fartsy types.

Most of us would just wall ourselves up in our homes and live in our little dream worlds if we had it our way. In the more extreme depths of my depression, I certainly did that. And I'll say this:

My writing was all the weaker for it.

I wasn't getting any life experience or meeting new people to draw from. Two things fueled my vision at the time. Self-absorbed brooding and all the pop culture I was using as a protective wall around me.

Let it be said that I do find beautiful poetry in places where others might not. Monster movies and comic books are strong stuff to me. But when that was 50 percent of what I was drawing on... well, that was a problem.

Even a dream world can't be based purely on dreams. You need a dose of reality.

Not that I went out there and found a job based on creative drive. The various jobs I've had have all been based on a baser desire - greed.

I like having things. CDs, DVDs, nice food, nice clothing, and a decent apartment. Books to read, movies to watch, and music to listen to. Lovely stuff to surround myself with. To numb my boredom and give me pleasure. I don't think I'm alone in wanting these things.

There's of course a more practical side to this. The electric company doesn't care that I've got a comic to write. Nether does the phone company and I'm willing to bet that the water people are in agreement, too. There's nothing like having your internet shut off to motivate a twentysomething pop-culture junkie to find a "real job."

If I sound a little bitter, it's because I am - to a point. There are nights where I'd rather be at home clicking away on my laptop than chopping up tri-tips for rich people. Often, on the job, I get an idea for a line of dialogue and I think to myself "I should walk out and go home." Then I feel my wallet in my back pocket. It's hungry for money. I tough it out for the rest of the night.
 

CLASS ACT
In my lifetime, I've done them all. Upper class, middle class, and lower class. Everything in between, too. You've heard of the idle rich? We'll I've been the idle poor. Issues of class and elitism trickle down into my work. I've been called both a populist and a humanist.

Personally, if anything, I've just got issues with elitism. Life has taught me it's a very bad thing.

Class comes up a lot at work. The store is in the most upwardly-mobile area in Dallas. Rich folks come in for high-dollar food. For the most part, they're polite. But the dividing lines are clearly there. You can tell they don't think much of us.

Well, that's not always true. There's no shortage of flirtatious trophy wives, always looking for some side-action. Something I'd never act on, but I'm not so sure about my co-workers. Besides, I still get the feeling that those women are partly turned-on about the idea of "slumming it" with us "rednecks."

Regardless, the issue is always present, even if it's just below the surface. The ruder customers have said things to me that I wouldn't even consider repeating here. People like to pretend that this problem doesn't exist in America. But it does. It's never been clearer to me.

I can't stand those stuck-up people, but I have to be around them night after night. You have to force yourself to be tolerant. I don't do as good a job as some of the others. I tend to bitch and moan after a customer leaves. I also write about it. Sometimes in veiled ways, other times in a more bluntly.

So in that respect I'm thankful for the experience. It's given me enough spite to fuel years worth of stories. Maybe it's a kind of reverse snobbery, but I can live with that. For better or worse, I suppose.
 

CHARACTER COUNTS
One of the upsides of being a not-so-starving writer (or whatever)with a side job... you're forced to be around people you wouldn't be with normally. This introduces you to all manner of interesting characters to draw on for your work.

Currently I'm surrounded by a displaced Yankee who loves NASCAR , an aging fearless Vietnam vet, a former stuntman, a local punk rock singer, a female vegetarian butcher, and two middle-aged cowboys. This all might sound strange when described, but these are real people. All with stories to tell. Stories I wouldn't have learned without going to work.

The punker is probably the only one I would have run across in my day-to-day life. The others? No chance.

The bottom line is that real people are weird when you break it down. But you have to go out and live a life to experience that weirdness. You can't just wall yourself in your apartment because you don't want to "sell out" and get a real job.

On the flip side, your co-workers will most likely stress you out. And there's bound to be conflicts of personality. I've seen grown men gossip like teenaged girls over stuff happening at work. It's not really backstabbing, but it does make me feel uneasy. That's a life experience too, though. Negativity can be channeled into your work just as much as positive energy.

I won't lie. There have been times when we've all been at each other's throats, and I've left work feeling completely worthless. Swearing up and down that I won't go back. I always do. Maybe I'm a chump, but I don't think so.
 

MONEY MAKES THE WORLD GO ROUND
Of course I've yet to mention one of the purely practical advantages to finding a side job. You have money to pump into your creative efforts.

If you're like me, you need to keep your site online, pay artists (when you're able), and come up with cheap ways to advertise.

Money is a double-edged sword. When you have it, it can be a great "friend" to your creative efforts. But what you do to get it can rob you of a lot of your creative drive.

The key is remaining focused. Don't let your day (or in my case night) job fool you into thinking it's the main focus of your life. It can be a persuasive little devil to. A job will create new relationships in your life. Give you something to do with your idle hands. Then finally put money in your pocket.

You'll start to think that your job is your life - but if you're a creative person, it's not.

You're like Peter Parker. You have a hidden "power" and the responsibility to use it. But also like the web-head, you have to pay rent. Plus, web-fluid doesn't grow on trees ya' know?

Money is demonized a lot because of the greed than normally surrounds it. You'll be tempted by this too. It's a lot easier to make a lot of money selling shoes than it is making comics. You'll start to wonder "why should I keep this up?" Well, because deep down you know you won't be able to look yourself in the mirror if you give up the comics (or painting or whatever).

So when the demon greed is on your shoulder, fend him off with the bright light of artistic drive. You'll sleep at least a little bit easier.
 

Drew Edwards sleeps all day and works all night. It used to be fun to be a vampire. But coffins don't pay for themselves, so he got a night job. When not sleeping the sleep of the undead, he writes the critically acclaimed Halloween Man. He lives in a crypt in Dallas, Texas.