Hard Work Isn't Enough

In the last three years, I have worked harder than ever. The quality of my creative work has blossomed. My abilities have sharpened. Still, I continue to slide backward.

Six years ago this summer, we lost my Dad very suddenly. That moment marked the beginning of the most difficult stretch of my life. I had no idea it would last more than half a dozen years, and still be rolling strong.

Since the day we lost Steven in August of 2026, my life seems as though it has been trapped in a maelstrom of tragedy, disappointment, betrayal, evolution, wasted effort, and crises of confidence. In the years since we have lost my father, I have also lost my business, my life savings, my financial independence, my band, my community, and even my belief in myself.

I first began this Substack in February of 2023, attempting to pull myself from the depths of a deep depression, and to begin to understand the nature of our collective creative work and the effects that it has upon us and the way that we live. Over time, I have improved my work in this space, and built an impressive catalog of essays, interviews, radio shows, tour diaries, and so much more. This work has been the lone shining light in a sea of darkness in recent years. Yet, no matter how much my work improves or how hard I work to foster the growth of WAIM, I seem to be stuck in place.

Being stuck in place is a shitty spot to be, but it is an improvement over the rest of my life where things have been going backwards, quite quickly, for the last several years.

In 2023, I made the decision to close my business and end my relationship with my corporate sales partner after 23 years. The reasons for this were myriad, but they were largely comprised of the lack of faith I had in my corporate partner and the ways that they managed their business. Suffice it to say, it’s difficult to be good at a sales job when the company you work with cannot keep a promise.

When I left, my corporate partner - who shall remain unnamed - promised me six months salary as a severance agreement. In return, I would finish out the fiscal year and help to provide a smooth transition. While I fulfilled my obligations, after delivery season was completed, I was informed that I would not be receiving my severance monies. With no recourse or ability to fight the decision, I was simply left to deal with the financial fallout.

Thankfully, I owned the building in which I had been running my business, and I had already made the move to put it on the market in the fall of 2022, at which time I moved my business back into my home and Sheddio. At the advice of a friend and real estate agent, I listed the building for $200,000. I figured even without the severance package from my corporate overlord, I would be fine if the building sold within a few months’ time.

As soon as I received my last paycheck in the summer of 2023, my accountant and I filled out the paperwork for unemployment coverage from the state. Not only had I paid in to the program as an individual income earner, I also contributed to the unemployment plan as a business owner. Still, despite having done the proper paperwork, and having paid into the plan for decades, I was denied unemployment benefits, and left to do more financial scrambling.

In the last three years, I have hustled to make a living with a combination of driving for Uber and Lyft, playing gigs, finding freelance design and writing work, and with my work here at What Am I Making. Even with Kimmy’s full-time salary, it’s a huge chanllenge for us to simply make ends meet. I am working harder than I have in my entire life, yet our family has been living out a very threadbare existence.

Sometime shortly after the end of my corporate gig, I also watched the dissolution of my band, The Stick Arounds. After having been incredibly active and ambitious for a decade and half, the band slowly petered out. There were no artistic differences, no massive personality conflicts, and no cheated parties. The band had simply run its course, and over time, it all just fell to nothing. In addition to losing my band, I also watched the relationships with my friends in that band slowly ebb as well. I lost my primary musical outlet, and found myself uncomfortable around some of the most important people in my life.

In 2024, I kept myself too busy to grieve for the loss of my band. I toured across the country, playing more than 40 shows in 29 states. The tour which was split in to two sections, was also the tale of two different halves. The eastern tour was a huge success, netted me some money, and fully boosted my confidence. The run out west was the polar opposite. On that trip, I lost money, and even arrived at more than one venue to find the gig cancelled without notice or to find that it had been forgotten altogether. These failures came with an intense shame, as well as putting me deeper into the whole financially.

Just before the holidays in 2024, I got a piece of bittersweet news; the building had finally sold. However, after more than two years on the market, I was able to get just $30,000 of the $2000,000 asking price. After I paid taxes and real estate commissions, I was left with a small chunk of change with which I could pay off a fraction of our collective debts, and buy a few Christmas gifts. It wasn't what we had hoped for at all, but it got us through the holiday season.

I spent much of 2025 licking my wounds from the difficult tour out west. I focused intently on my work at WAIM, and distanced myself from music for months. Even the act of picking up a guitar was painful for me in those first weeks home from tour. My Alvarez acoustic, instead of bringing me joy and release, became a talisman for my myriad failures and shortcomings.

Undaunted, I persevered. I worked hard to level up the quality and name recognition of guests for the podcast. Slowly, I began to net some recognizable names. Gradually, it became easier and easier to get bigger and better guests to appear on the show. I was certain this would lead to larger audiences, and more paid subscribers. Sadly, this has not been the case. While the quality of my work has improved and the level of our guests has jumped exponentially, our audience has remained relatively flat.

Right here and now in the summer of 2026, after a series of pivots and regroups, disappointments and failures, I feel as though I might be out of moves. While I have planned a massive tour for the second half of the year, my track record over the last six years would indicate that it’s very likely to be another disaster. I keep rebounding from these setbacks but I never seem to make any genuine progress. It is hard not to be filled with the sense that once again, I am setting myself up for heartbreak.

There is a larger part of me than ever that feels that it might be time for me to listen to the universe and the world at large, and just stop working so damned hard. It’s difficult these days to fight the sensation that I am the only one who cares enough about my creative work to keep it going. Throughout the last six years, each time that I have been knocked hard backward, I have gotten up, dusted myself off, and gone back to work, harder than ever before. The truth is that hard work has paid off only in being good work. That is certainly something to be proud of, but I am beginning to ponder whether or not it’s enough to sustain a life.

Cheers,
Matty C