Earning that first dollar is incredibly special and a moment many never forget. We asked some very talented creatives from the community to tell us the story of the first dollar they earned from their creative works.

Orlando Parker Jr

I was just 19 years old the first time I was paid in exchange for my talent. Just after finishing my first professional theatre performance in a Detroit Michigan production of “a Chorus Line”; where I was given a small part as “Roy”, a dancer, I set out to find the next “gig”. This would turn out to be a locally written, produced and directed gospel stage play called “When God Comes Down From Heaven”, which premiered at the Old Redford Theatre. There was nothing glamorous about co-starring in a low budget independant stage play, or having to jet to rehearsals in the evening after having worked a full day as customer service at the Detroit Science Center. Read more>>

Juliet Stockton

The first painting I ever sold was a portrait I painted of Olivia Newton-John as ‘Bad Sandy’ in Grease, in 2020. I shared it on my Instagram page that I’d recently set up to share my work, with related Olivia and Grease hashtags and it was picked up and shared by an Olivia fan account with a big following. Being new to Instagram I was absolutely thrilled that this had happened! Then, that same day I had dm’s from two people who had seen my painting on the fan account asking to buy it! I couldn’t believe it!! I sold it to the first person that messaged me, which turned out to be James King, well known writer, broadcaster and movie critic! I was over the moon. It was just the best feeling!! because I felt that this was a real sign that my work was valued and could potentially be commercially viable as a full time career, which was my dream. Also James King has been a wonderful supporter of my work and I have become great friends with Kerry who runs the fan account @olivianewtonjohnpics Read more>>

Drew Nyquist

It was pretty surreal how quickly it happened. It had been a little less than a year since I quit my fast-food job in an effort to pursue a musical career more intentionally. A church friend of mine recommended I create an account on soundbetter.com so I could find work as a mixing or mastering engineer. Not my ideal career path – I’ve always preferred the art of composing – but it was potentially something to help pay the bills. Less than 24 hours after creating my account, I got contacted by a guy named Rob Hawkins who’s been working in the industry for quite some time, and even had some songwriting credits for some pretty big acts like Three Days Grace and Boys Like Girls. He had heard the preview track on my account – an orchestral video game piece I made called “Created for Evil” – and reached out to me to create another symphonic tune for him, I think as kind of a test drive. I did that, got paid, and long story short, Rob recruited me to be a music producer for Audio Arsenal, his business that sells stock music. Read more>>

Neo Ernest Seekoei

The moment I received my first $50 check from streaming platforms felt surreal, like stepping into a new world where my passion could turn into something tangible. It all started with a song I had poured my heart into, a track that felt like a piece of me. I spent countless nights in my small bedroom studio, layering melodies and fine-tuning every beat. After releasing the song, I was anxious but hopeful. I shared it on social media, reaching out to friends and family, and slowly, it began to gain traction. I remember the thrill of seeing the play counts rise, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. Each new listener felt like a vote of confidence, a sign that my art was resonating with someone out there. Then came the day I opened my email to find a notification from the streaming platform. I had generated revenue! I couldn’t believe it. That $50 check represented more than just a monetary value; it was validation of my journey as an independent artist. I felt a rush of pride and excitement, knowing that someone out there had connected with my music enough to listen and support me. Read more>>

Risa Hricovsky

I took evening classes at the Toledo Museum of Art when I was in high school. While in an oil painting class, my class was invited to put work in the museum’s community gallery. I was working on a figurative painting of an adolescent girl’s head with two long braids, the head had no body and was floating in a blue background. When it came time to hang them, I accidentally attached hanging wire upside down. Then the painting was a large blue painting with a girl’s head floating upside down. I thought it was hilarious and left it, it was hung in the show and I priced it at $215. When the show came down and the rest of my classmates got their paintings back, I got a check for $215 because one of the museum’s directors had bought it. I was so shocked, it never occurred to me someone would ever buy it. I was holding the check with conflicting emotions. I felt excited to have sold the painting yet sad I would never get it back. In addition, I felt confused why someone would buy it. Did he see something that I did not? That experienced stayed with me and eventually taught me to trust myself and try to find value in all my art. Read more>>

Raman Dhariwal

In 2013, after completing a henna course, I secured my first bridal client. It was an exciting moment, but it wasn’t something that happened overnight. I had been doing henna for friends and family as a hobby for years, and they constantly encouraged me to pursue it professionally. They believed in my talent more than I did at first. I remember feeling both nervous and excited when I booked my first bride. It was a pivotal moment, as it marked the transition from something I did for fun to something I could build a career around. I’ll never forget the day. The bride reached out to me after seeing some of my work on a friend. The trust she placed in me for her special day felt surreal. As I started, the first brush of henna felt like a confirmation of all those years of encouragement from family and friends. When she handed me that first payment, it was a mix of pride and excitement, like a new chapter was beginning. It wasn’t just about the money—it was a validation of my skills and the start of something bigger than I had anticipated. Read more>>

Gary Johnson

It was a romance novel convention, but it felt like the Alamo. As the handlebar mustachioed cowboy was jotting down Gary Johnson on the check’s payee line, I was a couple hours from wiping away tears with a vodka-soaked kitchen towel. Not tears of joy. The crowd completely rattled me. But I had a check. It didn’t say ‘Art’ or’ Creative’ on the memo line, though. Old West Photo Booth is the line item I looked at with baleful eyes. It’s a misnomer, really. My ‘booth’ is not a booth. It’s a mobile photography studio with me as the animated fashion photog. I play dress-up with people for a living. Most of the time, it’s at corporate parties or fundraisers. My first booking was three hours of servicing a posse of women who’d been duped into buying tickets for a convention in a hotel ballroom on the shitty side of the I-70 frontage road before the Denver International Airport exit. When the metal double doors swung open, the crowd of “Romance Novel” enthusiasts saw only three activities to choose from. First, they lined up at the bar. Then they walked past the mechanical bull. Then they came for me. They wanted action, and there was a list of reasons they weren’t seeking it from the dusty mechanical bull beside me. Read more>>