Until recently, a typical weekday for creative writing master\u2019s student Adeline Saunders looked like this: she\u2019d wake up in the late afternoon or early evening to commute from Harlem to class, which lasted from 7:00 p.m. to 9:30 p.m. Instead of relaxing with friends afterward, she usually headed back uptown to squeeze in some time for homework or her freelance copyediting gig until her night shift as a newsroom editor began. She\u2019d work from 2:30 a.m. to 11 a.m. before collapsing in bed, waking up, and doing it all over again.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Unsurprisingly, this schedule proved to be unsustainable, but Saunders is far from the only artist pushing herself to extreme lengths to make money while creating art. This lifestyle feels necessary for many students in a city where 43 percent<\/a> of all renter households are rent-burdened, meaning that they spend more than 30% of their income on rent, according to the New York City Rent Guidelines Board.\u00a0<\/p>\n The roughly 2,400<\/a> graduate students at The New School especially feel the burden of bringing in an income to survive, as they\u2019re typically less likely<\/a> to receive tuition support than undergraduate students, according to the American Council on Education. Piecing together part-time and freelance work helps pay the bills, but students say it comes at the price of burnout.\u00a0<\/p>\n That\u2019s certainly true for Mal Ward, a second-year master\u2019s student studying poetry and fiction at The New School for Social Research. She works about 60 hours a week, catering, doing contract work for an instructional design company, and working a nine-to-five as a software instructor. Until recently, she also worked at a nonprofit.\u00a0<\/p>\n Ward knows that students who don\u2019t work have more freedom to create art, whereas she feels constant pressure to write in the limited time she can allot to it. \u201cI don\u2019t sleep the regular amount of hours that most people who are in their mid-30s would be sleeping,\u201d she said. She struggles most with juggling the \u201canxiety that you\u2019re not going to get things done on time, but also trying to hold up the things you\u2019re doing to support yourself so that you have the opportunity to learn,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n Lingering financial stress exacerbates feelings of exhaustion and burnout for Ward, who\u2019s trying to pay the interest on her student loans before it adds up. \u201cEven though I\u2019m paying consistently on the loans while I\u2019m in school, the amount feels like it\u2019s barely changing,\u201d she said. \u201cThat\u2019s probably really why I feel the pressure to work a lot \u2013\u2013 because I don\u2019t have any financial help from parents or tons of money that I\u2019ve saved up.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n For Kyle McCrea, a filmmaker and photographer studying creative writing, burnout and financial stress often obstruct his creative process entirely. \u201cEvery step of the way, something has to take a backseat, and more often than not, it\u2019s the art,\u201d he said. \u201cDuring the day I\u2019m [at my full-time work study job]. At night, I\u2019m doing classes, so by the time I get home, I\u2019m not feeling that great and really only have time to make something to eat and go to bed.\u201d He tries to set aside weekends for his short films, but sometimes weeks go by without him making progress.\u00a0<\/p>\n His rent and the cost of buying and developing film keep him from quitting his freelance and full-time jobs, not to mention living expenses and tuition. Despite his packed schedule, he\u2019s trying to overcome his exhaustion. \u201cArt can be a habit,\u201d he said. \u201cAvoiding art cannot.\u201d<\/p>\n Dominic Piacenza wants to push past exhaustion too, but it\u2019s hard. As a second-year creative writing master\u2019s student, he works as a bartender, wine shop clerk, teaching assistant (TA), liaison for incoming students, and research assistant. These jobs add up to roughly 50 hours a week. The cost of his apartment, which he got before grad school when he worked a more advantageous job, makes him and his girlfriend rent-burdened, so he can\u2019t afford not to work.\u00a0<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve really had to carve out hours [to write],\u201d he said. \u201cSomething had to give, I just don\u2019t see friends and family.\u201d He makes time for his novel when he can \u2014 45 minutes here and there, or waking up at 6 a.m. after bartending to write.\u00a0<\/p>\n He doesn\u2019t feel he has great options in terms of avoiding burnout. \u201cThere are times where I had to just not go to class, not go to work, not do anything,\u201d he said. His research assistant job is remote, which helps, but bartending offers no leeway in terms of squeezing in extra writing time.\u00a0<\/p>\n Similarly, his one-hour, one-way commute from Sunset Park to the bar where he works in Bedford-Stuyvesant is lost time. \u201cI spend five extra hours a week commuting,\u201d he said. He can\u2019t be productive in transit aside from occasionally reading an assigned book. \u201cOn the train ride home, I\u2019m beyond exhausted, and it\u2019s not possible,\u201d he added.<\/p>\n Saunders had the same problem when she worked nights. Now she works as a TA for roughly seven hours a week on top of her freelance copywriting gigs. \u201cRent is just incredibly expensive, and so is grad school even though I have a good sum for my scholarship,\u201d she said. \u201cIt\u2019s still incredibly expensive to get a master\u2019s degree in America.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n