A Creative Career is a Marathon, Not a Sprint (Thank God)
Laura Feinstein covers the design world by day (at Kickstarter) and at night (her newsletter Slow Ghost). Image: Laura Feinstein
The beer was cold, the fries hot. It was a lunch I had been planning in my head for a long time. While I’ve been interviewing people for Creative Factor over the past two years, I’ve always wanted to sit down with some of the people I’ve worked with and hit record on my mic to capture the things we discuss about craft, careers, and culture. And I wanted to do all of this over cold beer and super salty fries.
So that’s how my friend Laura Feinstein ended up at Le Crocodile in Brooklyn on a summer Friday afternoon. We snagged an outdoor table, ordered up a couple of IPAs from Talea, the women-owned brewery around the corner, and wisely chose the Eggs Royale with smoked salmon and hollandaise sauce.
Laura is the Senior Design and Technology editor at Kickstarter and has her finger on the pulse of the cool things creators of all stripes are cooking up. She also publishes her own weekly arts and culture newsletter, Slow Ghost. In a past life, she was an editor for places like VICE, GOOD, Fusion and Departures, and has also written on culture for The Guardian, Surface, and CityLab (among others). As Laura wrote in her Slow Ghost debut, “There are now fewer and fewer destinations to learn about the niche and wonderful, the strange and thought-provoking. The result has been a narrowing of who gets to be the voice of creativity and culture at a time when we need both more than ever.” So she did something about it and has imagined a space to highlight artists and innovators and discover what inspires them. Her latest newsletter asks, What even is a day job? and profiles artist Kelsey Bennett (Tony’s granddaughter) as she ping pongs back and forth between freelance life and full-time work.
Since Laura and I are on parallel paths putting out a newsletter inspired by our passions that was a natural place to begin our conversation. It ultimately took us everywhere from what it’s like to cover the creative world today to stories we’ve written that stay with people to advice we’d give our younger selves. Below is an edited version of that discussion.
MM: What’s the optimal time for you to work on your newsletter?
LF: Brain wise? Early in the morning. But I find I do most of the writing at night and editing in the morning with fresh eyes. At night, it’s like I’m one person, then the next morning it’s like a different person comes in. Like that Seinfeld joke about the “night guy leaving the mess for the morning guy” but they’re both you. Or, more aptly, Hemingway’s edict: “Write drunk, edit sober.”
MM: Maybe that's the way to do it. In the morning, we're too clear-eyed. We have the good angel on our shoulder saying don’t do that. At night, it’s more, let it rip. Do you think the idea of setting aside blocks of time at nights and weekends works, or is the reality more squeezing in time where you can find it?
LF: It does make you prioritize and sometimes you just have to grab the time. When I first started out I could read a book and then spend a morning walking by the East River to sort out the concept. These days we would have to tweet and say something about it on social media. It feels good to publish my newsletter today. I forgot how I can see the physical product in the world rather than just keeping it all to yourself.
MM: You and I both see so many stories in the creative world. I remember one: you connected me with a relatively young entrepreneur, Madelin Woods, who put together a design team and turned her passion for burritos into a business for a burrito holder with a great name—Burrito Pop. She was like us, working away on it at nights after she finished her day job. I might not make a burrito holder myself, but I loved her drive and felt inspired by it.
LF: There are great stories everywhere. We pitch Kickstarter projects for press and, when nobody wants to cover one, they miss a great story.
When I came up on the internet, I worked for the website PSFK. It was my first writing gig and my job was to find interesting things on the internet and write them up. I got like $15 an article for it. It wasn't even about the money. I got to discover cool things. The stories didn’t have to be full features—just a few paragraphs about why people like it. And we had a huge audience.
Slow Ghost covers the niche and wonderful, the strange and thought-provoking in the creative world. Sign up today!
MM: I don’t think mainstream media realizes how many people are in this demographic we cover. It could be because it is fragmented—you’ve got graphic designers here and UX designers over there and so many subsets in-between.
One of my favorite stories of yours is the piece you did on Gilbert Baker, designer of the Rainbow Flag. You told Baker’s story, from growing up in Chanute, Kansas and joining the Army to get out of town, then being sent to San Francisco where, long story short, the activist spent a night at the Cow Palace and, amidst the swirl of colored lights, came up with the idea of the Rainbow Flag. As you noted, LSD was involved. The story came together because of our curiosity. We looked at the Rainbow Flag, asked ourselves, “Who made that?” and you beautifully answered the question. That piece has stayed with me. It affirms how creative people make significant contributions to society and culture and they can go unnoticed unless we tell their stories. What’s a piece you’ve done that stayed with people?
LF: One of the greatest moments I had was when I wrote a piece about my visit to Torah Animal World, the largest Hasidic Taxidermy Museum on Earth, in Borough Park. It was a hot tip from my parents that ended up in VICE. People would tell me later on how they remembered that piece, even new co-workers. Someone once even tried to turn it into a documentary. The goal is to have a piece stay with people, even if it’s just one person.
MM: Love a hot story tip from the parents. What was it about the piece that resonated?
LF: Readers, especially ones in Brooklyn, couldn’t believe this fantastical place existed in their backyard. Also, that it was one man’s greatest passion project–to turn his brownstone into a 21st century Noah’s Ark, made of taxidermy treasures–come to life. I remember the photographer and I being asked to punch a giant ostrich egg by the owner, who was also a rabbi, who also held services in the next room. It was his contribution to his faith but it was also completely bonkers to walk through. He was truly living his own unique vision and I think that resonated with people.
“The beer was cold, the fries hot.”
MM: If you could go back and give your younger self advice about pursuing a creative career, what would you say?
LF: Hm, open up a Roth IRA account now. Jk! I wouldn’ have listened anyway. But I would say, try to find things you enjoy and don’t worry about it all fitting into a “conventional” career path. A lot of folks will tell you you’re crazy, doing it wrong, but then 10, 15, 20 years later those same people will be asking for advice on everything from planning summer adventures to finding more meaningful work. Don’t stop making that photo-copied ‘zine in the library. Don’t listen to the haters because the wildest, most time-consuming creative swings will be the things you’re most proud of as you age into someone who suddenly has to know about stocks and taking vitamin D. True story.
MM: I too can now speak at length to Roth IRAs and the benefits of Vitamin D supplements. I’d tell my younger self to be ambitious, businesslike, and methodical. But don’t be in such a hurry. To become good at storytelling, you have to do it day after day, year after year. You can’t fast forward your way to success. It takes time to develop your point of view, figure our your sense of style, and find your spot in the creative world. Enjoy that part of the process more.
For those thinking about taking a leap and moving to New York City to pursue their creative dreams, what would you say to them?
LF: Find the cheapest place possible to live and put up with it as long as you can, ha. My first room in New York City was a tiny closet overlooking the BQE in Williamsburg that I paid $525 for, and lived in for almost three years. Without that cheap rent there’s no way I could have afforded to work at a cultural center for $10 an hour, part-time, and write and pitch the rest of the time. Also, get good at finding creative ways to cook lentils and rice.
But more than anything, remind yourself why you’re here. There are so many “easier” places to live. The people who come to New York with a creative dream are here because if they literally could do anything else, live any other life, they would do it. Make a mood board in your mind and cut yourself some slack on those days when you just want to go home and curl up with some Netflix. It’s a marathon, not a sprint.
MM: All of what you shared resonates with me. When I arrived here at 22-years-old, my go-to grocery store selection was a pound of cheese, a dozen eggs, a loaf of bread and a thick slab of bacon. I’d eat some version of those things on repeat, as they were among the least expensive, albeit tastiest, items I could buy.
Building on what you said, I’d say anyone making the leap needs three things: faith, courage, and endurance. You have to believe that this big adventure will pay off in some way. And that could very well be in satisfying ways you never imagined. You have to have (or find) the strength to stand up to things when they get difficult. There will be plenty of these moments, sometimes weekly, and you must have the stomach for the fight. Finally, you need to keep going. Whatever you’re looking to achieve, it will likely take more time than you anticipated. Be patient and do a little head smashing every day. You’ll get there.
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