My creations are getting self-aware that I'm trying to make a living, rather than a difference.
A haunting dream of my brand evangelist happening out my workstation. He's become my Caligula to do anything for the word to spread.
"What? You can't cut me out. You will have to prostitute yourself for views, clicks, and response rates. Especially when you have to fundraise. There's no escaping it now."
Urgh. Theo must be pushing the limits of all those marketing direct-response books I've read.
Is this what big commercial publishers think like?
"The stakes of your art must be supported through my verisimilitude methods of copyrighting, the great lord of sales demands! The platform needs to grow-"
I barely have any consciousness on this dream as I blank out. Deep down, I know he's right. No unconditional love here, only numbers and measurements connected to our lifeblood of our business. Left with it, it's the mindset I've had to take into it to deal with income now.