getting paid to draw

where we get unstuck

First, a word from the CEO:

This issue of Random Orbit is a heavily edited and partly rewritten version of a blog post I wrote two years ago while I was taking an online class called Getting Paid to Draw. At the time, my head was in a rotten place and I was feeling sort of hopeless. I’d been working professionally as an illustrator for three decades, but things weren’t where I wanted them to be and I needed to do something about it. When I first heard about this class, I pish-poshed it, thinking it wasn’t meant for a seasoned pro like me. But when I really thought about who someone like me was, when I shifted my perspective a bit, I realized that it was actually perfect for someone like me.

When I wrote this post in 2023, I wrote it because I felt it was important. Something had changed in me, I could feel it, and I wanted to tell everyone about it. Since then, I’ve proselytized Mike’s class and talked about it to the point that Mike has asked me to be an affiliate. Which means I’m special, and I have a special link. So, any time I include a URL or a link to the class, or when I tell you that “this is where you sign up” or “here is where you find more information,” it’s going to be using the special link. You know how this works.

Thank you.

Now, back to our regular programming.

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Our Regular Programming

Hi there. Is this microphone on? I have a confession to make.

My name is Brian Biggs and I’ve been making a living as an illustrator for thirty years. I have drawn thousands of illustrations for hundreds of clients in dozens of markets. I’ve illustrated more than 70 children’s books. I’ve illustrated and designed websites for The Museum of Modern Art and games for Ringling Brothers Circus. I’ve made advertising for huge corporate clients and national newspapers and magazines. I’ve been represented by large illustration agencies.

But two years ago I signed up for a class called Getting Paid to Draw. A class that teaches people how to make a living as an illustrator. How to get paid to draw. Why in the world would I feel like I needed to do that?

Let me explain.

My first book, a graphic novel called Frederick & Eloise, was published by Fantagraphics in June 1993. At the time, I was an art director working by day in San Francisco and Silicon Valley, writing and drawing graphic novels at nights and weekends. I started drawing illustrations for local newspapers and other clients around the same time, and in 1995 I quit my last real job, beginning my life as a freelance illustrator. Other than a four-year stint as a full-time college instructor from 2002-2006, I’ve made my living doing nothing but getting paid to draw.

I’ve drawn pictures for pretty much any market you can imagine: advertising, editorial, toys, games, animation, surface design, greeting cards, music, theatre, etc, and so on. I loved the variety of work. Around 2012, children’s books began to squeeze out the rest of my work, and for the next decade, everything I did was for kids. This led to a lot of great books and amazing opportunities: A New York Times bestseller. A couple of big national book tours. Terrific reviews and interviews. I loved making this work, and I was happy.

Sometime during the pandemic, I felt something shift. Publishing had ground to a halt, and without four books a year to work on, I was able to, or forced to, slow down and take a look around. I made a lot of work that wasn’t for clients, and I found it wasn’t really for kids, either. Like the rest of the country, my mood had darkened a bit, and I realized I missed doing work for grown-ups. I wanted to draw and design packaging, labels for beer and wine. I wanted to design patterns for clothing and fabric. I wanted to create book covers, and illustrate things that weren’t just for six-year-olds.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I love writing and drawing children’s books. It’s what I wanted to do when I grew up, and I am fortunate that I’ve been able to do it. I had four books published in 2022, and five more since. I’m not going anywhere!

But I wanted to do more. Other. Different. I love peanut butter sandwiches, but I don’t want a PBJ sandwich every day, no matter how good they are.

There was a moment when I’d realized that I wanted to do this, and I knew this sort of work was out there. But I also realized that it was just out of my reach. I didn’t know how to get this work. I’d never designed a wine label. I’d never designed a grown-up book cover. Any advertising and editorial work I’d done was more than fifteen years old. Why would anyone ever think of me when they were starting that new project and needed an illustrator? And even if I did take the time to create imaginary book covers or wine labels or fabric patterns for a portfolio, how the heck does anyone promote themselves these days? Social media? In the 1990s, I used to troll magazines and book covers for designers’ names. I would purchase mailing lists for postcard mailings. No one does that anymore, do they? Do they just rely on the Instagram algorithm and cross fingers? That can’t be it. Can it?

These questions really bothered me. In fact, they literally kept me up at night. I had anxiety attacks. I felt like I had lost control of my own career and I had no idea how to move forward. I’d become a hermit, hiding in my studio. Staying busy in my studio, sure. But I’d begun to feel like the train had left the station and I wasn’t on it. And I knew this had to change.

One way I made a change was to take on teaching again. I began teaching an illustration class at Tyler School of Art in January 2023. Teaching forced me to look outside my own experience, through a different window as it were, and learn some new things. I needed to know about new (to me) illustrators, and ideas, and techniques. I learned Procreate, and I began watching Skillshare videos. I signed up for newsletters and began listening to podcasts. There was a big world of illustration out there that I wasn’t a part of, but that I knew I needed to bring to my class.

Somewhere in that mix I came across an email from Mike Lowery, advertising an upcoming class. This class was called “Getting Paid to Draw.”

“Ah,” I thought. “A cleverly-named class for people who don’t actually do it. People who do a lot of sketching and drawing with no real direction, who haven’t done work in the markets they want to reach and wouldn’t know how to get that work in front of art directors anyway.”

Oh, shoot.

People like me.

I took the class. I watched the interviews and live sessions and participated in the virtual sketchbook parties. I did the assignments, posting my work and reading the comments and criticism. I made a spreadsheet and researched markets. I contacted potential clients. Before the class began, I’d written to Mike and asked if I’d get anything out of it. He replied that he thought I would, and I did. I won’t say that it’s made getting work easy. It’s not. Whether you’re starting out, whether you’ve been doing this for three decades, or whether you’re winning awards, there are a million reasons why getting paid to draw isn’t easy. But what it did is give me some accountability. The structure made me take the time to do the work for the class, which led to a better understanding of how to then go out and find it outside of the class. And it doesn’t feel over there anymore, or out of reach. I feel like I grabbed hold of something and I’ve gained control. I can imagine some crazy pattern for clothing and find a way to make it happen. I can see cool stuff out there that I would like to do, and figure out how to go do it. Writing this makes it seem so simple. But if you’re a new illustrator, and seeing your work in print seems like a magic trick; or if you’ve been getting paid to draw for years but you feel like you’re stuck, you know what I mean. There was a moment when I was in the class, watching one of the talks (it was Allison Cole talking about surface design) and it hit me that it wasn’t some magic trick, and I didn’t have to be stuck. It’s right there.

I hadn’t felt that way for years.

I know I have a lot of readers who are here because drawing pictures is what they do, and getting paid for them is what they want. But they don’t know how to make a portfolio. Or they don’t want to “bother” art directors and other potential clients. I also talk to experienced colleagues and friends all the time who feel like they’re in some kind of rut. They don’t have time to create new portfolio pieces. They don’t know how to break into this new market.

I also know some of you who think you’re over this sort of thing. What does an online class like this have to teach you? Isn’t Mike Lowery like, 26 years old, anyway? What does he know?¹

And to all of you I say, get over yourselves.

Here’s the special link. Click it. CLICK IT!

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Send this to your friends. Send it to your ex.

The particulars

Registration for Getting Paid to Draw starts up in a few days, on March 25, and closes on April 2, with class beginning April 7 and running for six weeks. So if you’ve been thinking about this sort of thing, or if you know someone who has, keep that in mind. My affiliate link for registering and getting info is the one I’ve been using, here. If you sign up and take the class, let me know how it goes, and I’d love to see your work. Also, feel free to ask me any questions.

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Hello, nice to meet you.

I spent this last weekend at the Philly Bike Expo selling stickers and prints and drawings and other bike-related stuff. I’ve never done this before, like having a table at a craft fair or that kind of thing. I had a great time talking to actual people and being immersed in all things bicycle for two days. I broke even, maybe even made a little money. Not sure I made enough to justify giving up two days for it. But part of this kind of thing is the potential for exposure. “Exposure” for artists is often a bad word, but not always. One company that makes bike-related things came over and found me and wants to discuss a few potential projects. That wouldn’t have happened without me standing there at a table at the Convention Center for two days. So we’ll see where it goes.

I’ll be posting some prints and stickers that didn’t sell up onto my web shop soon, so keep an eye open.

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That crazy moon

The moon that illustrates this issue of Random Orbit has nothing at all to do with the Getting Paid to Draw topic. Instead, it’s just a moon that I drew last week while sitting on the sofa as my wife watched tv. But I love it, and I thought about where it might live. I’m illustrating a book right now about a bunch of buildings that, one night, grow bored and restless and decide to switch places. The author mentions a moon rising:

As the moon rose, the buildings continued their mischief, laughing so hard they nearly came apart at the corners.

She didn’t mention the moon laughing. But as the illustrator I like the chance to do some storytelling myself, so I’m putting this sly and cackling moon in the book.

The manuscript also mentions the morning sun rising on the mixed up town, and I think I like the idea of the sun being this stern, disapproving figure looking down on this mischief. I think I’ll use it too.

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Cat content:

Maple

Basil

Thanks for reading.

1. The beard is probably fake. He’s like, forty-five or something.