#i have a cross stitch an embroidery piece and a half done throw pillow on my desk

[silvermarmot]

I have been doing a ton of crafting the last week or so, and this is the first thing I've finished. It's also my first wreath that I've stuck with to completion! Made entirely from dollar store materials, it cost me roughly $8 to make, and took about 4 hours over two days and multiple crafting sessions.

[trulymightypotato]

On the Comparative Value of Labor

A few people have told me recently that I should pick up x or y thing and make money with it on the side: knitting, cross-stitching, so on and so forth. “You can sell little embroidered key chains for five bucks some weekend and make some pocket change!” they say, completely unaware that that’s nowhere near the right amount of money to even break even with the cost of material and time that I put into it.

Especially considering that I’m slower at these tasks than most people.

This is, largely, because knitting and cross-stitch are tasks with extremely fine motor control--tasks I struggle with on a daily basis due to both the strain it puts on my joints and my general lack of fine motor control in the first place.

I’m familiar with the basics of both trades. I’ve knitted (though the most complicated thing I’ve ever managed is a scarf, because uneven yarn tension doesn’t matter so much there) and I’ve done a wide variety of embroidery (my current project is a set of throw pillows for a cousin’s wedding gift--a project, that despite the low surface area of the pillows that’s being covered, has taken me six months and I’m still not done).

One of my roommates can pick up crochet and make a scarf in a matter of days.

And yet the scarf that I spent four weeks knitting non-stop to get done in time for Christmas and the scarf my roommate made in a week would be valued the same--if not hers as a higher worth, because she’s able to control the yarn and make for a smoother finished project.

Despite the fact that a keychain-sized cross-stitch item would cost me materials and about four hours of time, it would be valued at five dollars.

My work, at a detail that causes me pain, is valued at $1.25 an hour.

You might be able to see the problem here.

This applies to more than the physical crafts.

It applies to "The market price is crap and also based on people who work faster than you do because they’re not in pain.”

I do digital art. I do it when I have the time and a subject in mind, which means it happens less often than I’d like. I’ve done commissions before, too, and contracted work.

The thing is, even though my commissions are “too expensive,” they’re honestly not costly enough. Not only is someone paying for a digital product, but they’re also paying for my time, for the experience I have in digital work, my style, and the physical effort it takes for me to actually complete a piece with intensive feedback. A total of three (3) people have ever commissioned me, and while I’m glad one of them has repeatedly come back for more, it’s disheartening to see the vast majority of people aren’t interested in paying a still-too-low wage.

As for that contract work I did--legally speaking, I’m not allowed to divulge details, but know that because “it’s a lot of work you’ll get paid plenty by the time it’s all over” I did intensive pieces and got paid under half of what I should have been. By the time I found out how much work there really was, and the changes the other party demanded months after getting a final piece sent to them, I was locked into a contract that didn’t give me any hope for improvement. (Also, they wouldn’t pay me for months at a time and got upset when I refused to hand over the final products until I got paid.)

By the time everything was said and done, I was getting paid about $3 an hour.

Somehow, because some people can draw faster than I can for the same product, that means I get paid less than a fair wage.

It’s one of the reasons commissions haven’t been open in a while. I can’t handle that again--both the mental strain and the physical damage caused by both working a regular job and drawing for another 4-6 hours a day to get stuff done.

It applies to “Other people have more time to do things than you do, and yet you’re held to the same standard.”

I record videos and put them on YouTube for fun. There was a period of time, about two years ago, when I was able to put out a video nearly every day. It was expected of me, so why wouldn’t I? And then, very suddenly, videos stopped for several months. Why?

Well, because I was taking 15 credits of college classes and working.

I would get all my homework done on my commute on public transport to and from college and in the breaks between classes. On particularly rough days I’d do a few more hours of it when I got home.

Then I’d have an irregularly-scheduled job where I’d work two 8 hour shifts back to back (either on sequential days or, on a few notable occasions, on the same day--you read that right, 16 hour days) and then a single 4 hour shift and then I wouldn’t be allowed to work more because then they’d have to start paying me benefits.

Because of this, money was so tight that some months I could barely pay rent, much less afford to eat.

I’d have chores I needed to do, ranging from the basic “clean room” and “dishes” and “laundry” (a task that takes several hours, assuming all the washers and dryers at the laundromat are working properly) to the more technically complicated “grocery shopping” (since I didn’t and still don’t have a car and had to rely on public transportation) and “scheduled appointments”.

I didn’t have time to put out videos, and yet I still felt I had to. My mental health was suffering to the point where my physical health was suffering (something I’m still dealing with the ramifications of to this day), and the only thing I could cut was videos.

So I did.

I stumbled through my last semesters of college (and I graduated with a GPA lower than I’d wanted but above a 3.0 so really that was nice) and got a new job--one that works me regular hours, even if those hours start at 4:30 in the morning.

And for several months into 2018, that was all I could do.

Sure, I managed to get out a few videos in that time, but I wasn’t really happy with them, and judging by the analytics on my channel, neither was anyone else.

It applies to “There’s a lot of invisible work that goes into this.”

I know I write fanfic for free. I’m planning on keeping it that way. It’s a good way for me to clear my mind and get creative, without the pressure of having a “final product” to show off at the end. I mean, I will have a final product, hypothetically, but I’m not really expected to show it to anyone in a professional context.

But then there are those comments--comments at the ends of chapters and in articles written by “professionals” and “experts.” The ones that say “Anyone can write. You’re just making things up for the fun of it, of course it’s not difficult” and “It’s been so long, when’s the next chapter going to be out?”

Except that it’s not so easy as that.

Yes, absolutely, I do it for fun. I do it for fun all the time. I do it for the satisfaction, and for the enjoyment of writing.

But the final product you see? Is not just something I tipped out onto the page.

In Royal Flush, for example, each and every chapter is started with a specific purpose in mind. A thing, a very specific thing, needs to happen. Maybe someone needs to learn information, or an aspect of 1920s culture needs to be showcased to better explain someone’s motives and actions.

All of this requires research. Research into clothing customs, and into social greetings and actions out in public and the customary ways to do such and such. Research into the vehicles of the time. Research into the medicine of the time (which is a particularly tricky one). Research into politics and public opinions and real-life historical figures.

The average chapter of Royal Flush takes me a week to a month to write.

This is a call to remember that just because a job looks easy, it’s probably not. If you think you can do it better, feel free. If you’re going to be That Person, then I don’t want to work for or with you. If you approach me on social media, I will block you.

Remember: for the vast majority of the “easy work for easy money” I perform, the work begins as soon as negotiations open--not as soon as I actually sit down and start working on the art, or the chapter, or the cross-stitch.

By engaging in someone’s work, you are agreeing to THEIR terms, to THEIR labor, to pay THEM a fair wage for the time and work THEY put into it--not your neighbor, not yourself, not a robot in a factory. 

You are hiring a person. Rates may vary.