Success - The Creator's Worst Enemy?

This column is about 2 possibilities - how money spoils the muse or how the spoils of success (i.e. media interviews, outside projects, Hollywood partays, designer drugs, et al) spoil the money... um... no... how the spoils of success take the creator away from the act of creation. Cuz we know nothin' spoils money... except mebbe that trophy blonde ya marry who ages poorly. Although you can always divorce her and grab a new one down the line if ya have enough jack (and a good prenup lawyer - and if ya didn't have a rock solid prenup, you can either drown her in the pool or shoot her outside of a restaurant. And dat's da name o' dat tune, Scotty).

Where the Hell was I before I so rudely (and misogynistically) interrupted myself?

So let's cover the first bit first, as it's always wise to start at the beginning, unless you're trying to win a prize at Cannes. We've all seen it before (George Lucas), young struggling artist (George Lucas) makes his dream project (George Lucas), has phenomenal success (George Lucas), gets rich and fat (George Lucas), surrounds himself with sycophants (George Lucas), does alotta nothing for two decades (George Lucas), makes his "artistic comeback" (George Lucas), which sucks holy donkey dung (George Lucas).

Not that I'm gonna name any names, mind you.

A fatal trapping of success emerges when the artist decides that all those critics and/or fans are right - that s/he actually is a God Emperor Genius, and therefore, all work is infallible... no matter how self indulgent, trite and annoying it may be. After all, God Emperor Genii don't make mistakes - they are merely misunderstood - at least according to all of their well-paid, "yes-master" lackeys.

Once the creator reaches the financial status where sycophants start polishing their tongues in anticipation of butt-kissing bonuses, a creator's prime time is limited and the potential for valuable work is on life support with a dire prognosis. As soon as the artist believes his/her own press kit, we've more often than not lost that creator to the cesspool of "s/he was good until s/he had commercial success."

Heed this: making money isn't necessarily the evil "sell out" factor that so many Megahip Underground Yabbos spend so much time whining about on the message boards... no, dear reader, money is not the root of all evil... vanity is.

Plenty of cats have made good dough from their work and continued to produce quality stuff because they've maintained their ability to separate the reality of doing the work from the surrealism of doing the business surrounding the work. However, the poor saps who make it big and then think that they're infallible due to the praise of leeches and an over zealous starving ego are doomed to fail in the end. Work done with the absence of a critical eye is pap.

So when you make yer first million, remember what got you there... your hard work, not spending 8 hours a day in a meetings with ass kissing dipshits telling you how great you are and where you should invest your money. The Ass Kissers are merely ground-bound remoras looking for a new Great White to sponge off of - so be a smart shark and eat the sycophants for lunch and stick to what got you where you are... thoughtful work.

The second pitfall is more dangerous, because the artist can continue working with the best of intentions, but be led down the slippery slope of doing too much promo work for the next project, so that the next project never gets done. I dunno whassup with J.K. Rowling, but since she's started her book tours and TV interviews, the latest Harry Potter book has been wicked slow in coming. This is the Tar Baby of success - where your work becomes so popular that everyone wants to meet you or work with you, leaving you no time to do what matters: the original work itself. As you graciously accept more and more of these offers, they slowly drag you down into the obsidian abyss. But let's face it, it's damned flattering and hard for an artist to ignore accolades after s/he has been working in nigh isolation prior to becoming a hot ticket. Recognition for a job well done is quite nice after enough years of seclusion... so the desire to graciously accept the heralds may play havoc on the act of creation. Sure, going to TV studios, working with idols and chowing down at the White House are damned cool... but they don't get the important job done.

So when ya make yer second million, remember to stick to your guns and keep your nose to the grindstone. Have some fun, but don't overdo it - cuz we ain't got all that much time in our mortal lives to devote to our own work. So when ya get the chance to focus on your personal muse, just do it. Do not let the glitz and glamour lead you astray. Be one with the work - not with the outside projects. Be smart, use your head.

And may the Force be with you, young master.

Oh, and that shiznit about Lucas - it's just a joke. I actually thought "Attack of the Clones" was kinda cool... but mebbe that's just cuz my expectations were so damned low going in. I dunno.