I am fully supported making money doing what I love to do.

For nine years the thing she loved was funded by the thing she didn't — night shifts at a hotel desk, which paid for a studio she could only use in the afternoons.

There's a version of this story where the day job is the villain. It wasn't. It was the support, the floor the loved work stood on until the loved work could stand by itself.

Support rarely looks like a patron. It looks like a partner covering rent for eight months, a cheap bus pass, a relative who never sends a bill for the childcare.

Nothing about being carried for a while cheapens what you make with the time.