An artist needs a dayjob that they don’t hate. I’m a little weird, I know, because I think I’d enjoy that repetitious desk job everyone else is trying to escape. Something like factchecker, researcher, copy editor. I described it like this when my parents asked: an office down in the basement of some newspaper or publishing house where I can be left alone, where the work stacks up, where I can get through it without having to talk on the telephone, where there’s enough time in between to daydream about a little shop where I can sell baked goods and printed things.