not everyone is gifted to create lovely furniture that will last for centuries, or a violin that will be worth millions 200 years from now.

I have been lucky enough to make my living as a passable artist and writer, I suppose that makes me creative but no one will be bidding at auction for one of my first editions after I am dead.

But how could this come about?

The answer is a very simple one. I do what I do because people down the food chain labour on my behalf to support me with cheap food and other essentials. They are not lesser persons than me, just that they do not have the modestly creative gifts that I was lucky to be born with.

on the other hand they have other equally useful gifts i do not have

The farmer produces food I need, whereas if I had to produce my own food I would starve to death. But if the farmer only produced our food from the output of a horse drawn plough, it might make for a beautiful creative image, but we would all starve to death.

The blacksmith might produce a lovely object in iron, but our contemporary way of life will not allow us to wait for the output of his forge.
Further up creative the food chain, the great contemporary writers make millions, whereas I do not.

But they make their millions from the millions who pay £10 for what they write. Millions who are stuck in mind numbing jobs so that a few may not be.

Charles Dickens became a wealthy man through writing about squalor, not by living in it. It was much much worse than we know now. Though he knew it from his early life of course. He was creative, but he was supported by those who were not.

co-author of The End of More, in paperback and kindle on Amazon email

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