For most professional creatives, juggling a few different income streams is essential to spreading financial risk. We move between employment, freelancing, and side hustles to thrive in the modern gig economy. To navigate these sources of income and professional development, we need a stable of creatures.
Doing different things and having multiple sources of income is healthy. It’s even better if those money jobs are a nice mix of regular and irregular payments. However, not all the work we do will generate income. Sometimes we also need to focus on our ‘Unicorn’ Work.
Unicorns are wonderful creatures: shiny, fabulous, and spiritual. They are valuable to the people who love them because they’re magical. ‘Unicorn Work’, for us creatives, is work that feeds our souls and expresses our creativity. It’s the shiny and magical song we have to sing, the poem we need to write, the dance we simply must do, the story we have to tell.
Creative people need to pursue Unicorn Work. It’s the thing that makes us feel like we’re doing what we’re supposed to do. It’s that compulsion to sit in front of the canvas in the middle of the night, or it’s the weird time shift that happens when you start writing and suddenly realise you’ve been at it for eight hours straight. It’s the work we have to do because it stretches us, challenges us and lets our talent run free. It makes us better in every way.
However, Unicorns are delicate and beautiful. They aren’t built to pull a heavy load, get dirty, or pay the bills. That’s not their job. Unicorns are meant to be magical and cool, but they’re too fragile to carry heavy financial pressure. Expecting them to make money can even change the very essence of the creature.
Sure, sometimes Unicorns make money, but it’s almost always after you’ve finished them, and it’s always a surprise. It’s very hard to pay the rent or feed the kids with surprise, after-the-fact Unicorn money.
Like most creatives, I have my own Unicorns. Mine are independent documentaries, the films that I want to make about the experiences of real people, like my feature film Handbag. I wasn’t paid to make the film, even though you may have seen it on Amazon or SBS. On the contrary, it actually cost me money. It’s not a sound business pursuit in any way, and yet I love it. It’s my Unicorn. Telling stories on film stretches and challenges me; it’s a part of who I am, but I can’t expect it to pay my bills. I need another creature to help me carry that load. I need a Workhorse or two.
Workhorses bear a striking similarity to their Unicorn cousins, but they are built for heavier stuff. Our Workhorses are the elements of our creativity and cleverness that we can monetise. We do the work primarily for financial gain, but it’s also within our skill set, and hopefully, we love it too. This isn’t like slinging beers as an undergrad until your real work comes along. We have to love our Workhorses because they do the hard work. They deserve our care and respect to pull that heavy financial load
Workhorse projects are not work that we hate, but they’re also not as sexy and spiritual and fabulous as our Unicorn projects. What our Workhorses lack in excitement, however, they make up for in financial strength. Workhorses have very broad backs and can carry the full financial weight of themselves, us, and all those magical Unicorns. It’s their job to make money and feed us right now. Maybe we don’t talk about them at parties, maybe it’s not the work that wins awards, but it’s the work that keeps a creative professional afloat.
My workhorses have corporate videos, commercials, branded content, copywriting and university lecturing. It all pays well, and it’s work I enjoy, but it’s not something I’m going to win awards for or post to Instagram. What it lacks in glamour it makes up for in dollars. It also subsidises my Unicorn Work, and it always will.
As a creative, if you don’t have any Unicorns in your life, you’ll be sad and creatively unfulfilled. If you don’t have any Workhorses, you’ll be poor. The secret is maintaining a nice healthy balance between the two.
In a society that doesn’t value the work of the artist, in an economy that still thinks of us as outliers, in an education system that is constantly telling us we need a backup plan, creative people are expected to live on a very narrow continuum between ‘starving artist’ and ‘sellout’. Neither of these extremes reflects the reality for most of the creative clients I work with – or for myself, as an artist.
The balance between art and commerce is something that every creative person struggles with, we just don’t talk about it enough – except for George Clooney. He happily admits to making coffee commercials for lots of money so he can direct his own artistically fulfilling films that are often financial disasters. Ask yourself: do you really think Cate Blanchett makes perfume commercials for the ‘art’
If George and Cate can keep a stable of Unicorns and Workhorses, then so can we. I will never apologise for learning my craft as a filmmaker and writer through commercial work. I fed my family by making ads. I paid my rent with copywriting. I didn’t become a less-talented creative as a result, and I didn’t sell my soul. I did good work that I was proud of, and I got paid. That’s business!
So, love all of the creatures in your stable. Understand what their roles are, what their strengths are, and tend to them lovingly and equally. Never apologise for maintaining both. You will be joining the growing ranks of professional creatives who are happily figuring out how to make money from their creative Workhorses, while still making time to frolic with the Unicorns.
For a deeper dive, tune into our webinar channel at https://www.crowdcast.io/@creativeplusbusiness
And don’t forget to register for our new Unicorns and Workhorses webinar, coming up on Sept 24, 2025. It’s free to register!
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