R.J. Cutler: The September Issue

Wait, Anna Wintour just gets up and does a thing she’s good at or things associated with what she’s good at all day? You mean to tell me she doesn’t have to temp for eight hours, editing Vogue in stolen moments of downtime? Oh, I see; she’s figured out some sort of rolling welfare scam, right? I bet she tells Uncle Sam she’s got nine kids and lives off the sweet nectar of the dole, free to exercise her real skills all day long. God, that must be sweet.

So in the final stages of my descent into the vortex of nihilism, I find it difficult to watch documentaries like these. The September Issue shows nothing but people engaged in work at which they excel, slowly but inexorably revealing that they really do it all day long. While I have no particular opinions on women’s fashion or the magazines that cover it, watching people work hard and well while clearly getting paid for it — and probably having their proficiency positively effect their quality of life — in any setting tortures me. Over time, I’ve whittled my wish list down to one compound item: to be able to work hard at what I’m good at, to only do that, and to have my accomplishments therein translate into something. Anything. Having gotten nowhere near that, I watch a movie like this, filled with professionals living lives unified with their crafts, the way a hungry hobo might watch a film of a Christmas ham.

Of course, it could be worse; I could want to make fashion magazines. I don’t know about the rest of Gen Y, but seeing anybody do well at something I’d like to do well at floods me with fear that the door closed behind them. Writers? Forget it; can’t get paid for that anymore. Filmmakers? Forget it; can’t get paid for that anymore. Broadcasters? Forget it; can’t get paid for that anymore. Editors of Vogue? Hoo boy. You’d better forget that. Feel free to do all that stuff on the side while, for a paycheck, you either suffocate in alienated Kafka-hood or ask people if they want that macchiato extra wet. You can only live a unified life as an app developer of an SEO consultant.

In conclusion, I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself

 

Comments

[DW]

Um, is it ok if I read some irony into that last paragraph?

[Patrick Murtha]

I can't be sure of the level of irony here, so for the sake of argument, let me just take the post straight. I think the notion "Do what you love and the money will follow" was always a remote dream for most, but yes, it is probably getting even worse today, as the production of "content" of all forms is increasingly hobbified and unpaid. So I think the only realistic model is "Do what you love, and do something else (that you don't dislike) for money." That leads a lot of us to teaching, for obvious reasons.

But whatever activity it leads to in the second category, it is important to preserve free time for the first category, and that, in turn, often means forgoing a "normal" or conventional family or romantic life. In other words, it is not usually possible to work eight hours a day at the secondary money-making activity, come home to the spouse and kids and house, and also keep up the beloved primary activity.

Well, I didn't say this was going to be easy. But I have found throughout my life -- I am 52 now -- that I can make some (not much, but enough) money, and maintain all my interests and creative outlets, by opting for an unconventional and frankly semi-monastic kind of life. Surprisingly perhaps, it is also a reasonably satisfying one.

Everyone's solution will be different, of course. But trying to "have it all" is usually not practical. Something, somewhere, has got to give. Only you can decide what that something needs to be.

[Colin Marshall]

So far I've foregone the niceties of a house, a family, a car, or a garbage disposal. Maybe I'm still screwing myself over by eating foods other than rice.

[Patrick Murtha]

Hey, rice is good for you! I eat rice almost every day!

Seriously, though, it is one thing to accept temporary privations as a condition en route to making it and "getting to work hard at what [you're] good at," and quite another to accept privations as an ongoing precondition of getting to do what you're good at in your spare time, for little or no monetary compensation. Do you love what you love that much? That's the question. Many don't, and that's OK too. Most people can't accept the trade-offs involved in the pursuit of a true avocation -- first and foremost among them that it is an avocation.

Absolutely the worst stumbling block in your one wish is the phrase "to only do that." That is where the fantasy and its likely unrealizability is concentrated, in those four little words.