It's my life's work
I realized: Oh, I've got to do more drawing. But of course that was sort of a hard sell around the house. I'm out of work. I'm gonna sit around and draw? I needed to make a living.
I have another story to share about someone who had a major, positive life change after age 50(-ish). (If you'd like to submit one of your own, do so here.)
Meet John Donahue, who lived through what I think is the nightmare of many middle-aged workers: Laid off in his late 40s, after more than two decades, with no idea what to do next.
Here's how he figured it out, and turned disappointment into opportunity. (Actually, so I don't forget, here's a nice, big, prominent, upfront link to his second act business: All the Restaurants.)
by John Donahue (as told to Bill Murphy Jr.)
I began my career as a journalist, working for the New Yorker for many years as the deputy editor of the Goings On About Town section. I took art classes. I practiced on the subway. I submitted lots of cartoons to The New Yorker, and I was fortunate enough to have five published. That was a minor success, but far from a sustainable income source.
I was also interested in food. I authored a book titled Man With a Pan: Culinary Adventures of Fathers Who Cook For Their Families, which became a bestseller for a brief period in 2011. But, the print industry was in decline, and I knew I needed to move into a different job. I just didn't get there fast enough.
I was 47, pushing 50, and I got laid off from The New Yorker after 22 years. This was 2015, so 2016 was the period of reflection and discovery and despair. Not necessarily in that order.
My wife became our primary income source. We had health insurance. I stayed home with my kids, who were in elementary school. I literally didn't know what I could do with my life.
I spent a lot of time cooking, and I found that drawing calmed me down. Like, when the kids were trying to get out of the house—those crazy moments: "Where are my boots?" Where's my backpack?"—I just sat there and drew the dish rack while I waited for them to figure out where their socks were.
I realized: Oh, I've got to do more drawing. But of course that was sort of a hard sell around the house. I'm out of work. I'm gonna sit around and draw? I needed to make a living.
This is the important thing for the 50-year-old, imaginary person out there who gets laid off and maybe can learn from my experience. It took some time, but I eventually realized that my skills were transferable.
I was a journalist. I knew how to edit. I knew how to write. And there was, I discovered, this whole other industry—it's a third of the US economy, so like, shoot me for not realizing this earlier—but it's the nonprofit sector.
So, I thought there could be a role for me in nonprofit development, doing grant writing and other forms of fundraising. I just started networking like crazy, like straight out of “What Color Is Your Parachute?”, if people still talk about that.
At the same time, inspired by the success of Man with a Pan, I tried my hand at drawing restaurants. I started with a drawing of the Odeon in Lower Manhattan. If you know the book Bright Lights, Big City, it's on the cover. It was the first drawing I posted for sale when I launched my website on January 1, 2017.
Eventually, I got a job at a human services nonprofit called Brooklyn Community Services. They do really good work. I liked grant writing. It was so black and white. It's like, either you get the grant or you don't get the grant. It's the best-paying part of nonprofit work.
But at the same time, I had the idea I might do another book, featuring restaurant drawings. I put together a proposal, and I found an agent who was really into it. A publisher stepped in with a preemptive bid for a three book deal: a book about New York restaurants, one about London, and one about Paris. It was like the 1990s all over again.
So I had a book deal, and a day job, which was magnificent, but I also had this side gig, which was drawing restaurants and selling the artwork online. I ended up building a direct-to-consumer brand. I started reaching out to local journalists. I was featured in the New York Times and Eater, significantly helping my brand growth.
Then, I got poached in the nonprofit world, and it did not work out. It lasted like a second, but it also coincided with this side business going bonkers. So I'd wanted to reach what I called escape velocity, which was basically, "enough sales to be a real job," and suddenly I was there.
I work in ink from real life, and I don't make any corrections. It's this very loose style. Then, I put one color on the print, and that's my aesthetic. That's my signature. It takes me about 20 minutes to draw one, and a few hours to add the color and make the print. All of them are sold in limited editions of 365, which is a reminder of how our days are numbered. I choose which restaurants to do based on requests, and I charge a little bit more to do a commission, which ends up being the first print in a series.
I made all the typical founder mistakes. Since it started as a side gig, I didn't have any systems in place. I didn't have stock keeping units, SKUs. It was all just in my head. And so this last year I've spent, what I call, leveling up the business. I'm working with these database developers in Poland. Before I became an artist I'd never used a spreadsheet. Now, I can't live without spreadsheets! And I've had a bunch of interns, and I took on one of them for 30 hours a week as a 1099.
Now I spend 85 percent of my time on admin stuff, and that's the motivation to figure it all out. Marketing and admin. Like this conversation is basically marketing, right? But I just love to draw. In a perfect world I would be out drawing like two or three days a week. That would be my goal. But, I'm making money. I'm not at seven figures yet but I'm making at least four times what I was making in my old job. And I'm making my own hours, learning new stuff.
It's not just that I love it. It's my life's work. I'm not particularly religious, but God gives you a skill. And I found my skill.
I want to tell my kids: You need to find something that you can do fast, that makes you happy, and that people will pay you for. Like, that's the secret to life.