Smart business tactics for creators

Hi! Welcome to Artwork. My name is Toba. Today on the show, we’re joined by Wana Udobang, famously known as WanaWana of the WanaWana empire. She’s a writer, poet, and media mogul. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome WanaWana!

I’ve reeled off your bio, I’ve spoken about you and what you’ve done, but would you mind telling us more about yourself and your work?

Well, the easiest way to say it is that I’m a storyteller. I work at the intersection of writing, poetry, performance, film sometimes, and curation, the curation of projects, and experiences too, experiential projects.

I worked at Radio Nigeria for about six and a half years, then moved on to working freelance. I did a few radio documentaries for the BBC, presented a TV show called “Airtel Touching Lives,” and I also had a project called “Culture Diaries” which is an archival project, the idea is to document African artists through video conversations.

So say I’m a creator, and I’ve been called by the biggest telecoms operator in Africa to do something for them, how do I determine what to charge?

I think it depends on what you’re being asked to do. The one thing I would say is to erase the word perpetuity from your life. Let me go with being a poet, for starters. Let’s say a telecoms company comes to me and says, “Oh hi Wana, we want to work with you on a campaign.” I send them a series of questions. Usually: “How long is the campaign going to run for?” “Do you want me to write it, or are my voice and image going to be used in the promotion?” “Where are the territories it’s going to air in, just Nigeria, or Africa-wide?” Then the modes of distribution: “Is it just online? Is it TV? Is it radio?”

All these questions help you understand how the work will be used, and for how long. These things also guide how much you’re going to charge. Because in 20 years, someone could say, “Oh, we really liked that ad, let’s run it again.” Then your face, voice, and image are being broadcast all over the world, and you’re not being paid.

You also need to charge for loss of earnings. If you’re working with a biscuit company, for example, chances are you won’t be able to work with any other biscuit brand. Once you’re associated publicly with one, the other ten biscuit companies won’t call you.

There’s a fear that every creator has, which is, “How do I make sure that I haven’t priced myself out of the market? How do I make sure I’m not charging too high?”

For me, I think pricing yourself out of the market, all of these things, they’re very individual choices. You have to ask yourself: “What kind of artist do I want to be?” “What kind of creative or creator do I want to be?” “Who are the kinds of people I want to work with?”

It really connects to your personal aspirations. There are people who have a team, it’s like a factory. They’re producing, churning out work, and making money in volume.

Then there are people saying, “I just work by myself. I don’t want to work with a team. I only want to work with five clients in a year,” because the money from five people equals the money from 200 people, for them.

But even with that mindset, you must have the skillset to deliver what you’re charging for. It’s one thing to say, “I just want to charge XYZ,” or “I only want big clients,” as we say, “big, big people.” But are you delivering the kind of product or service that justifies what you’re asking for?

What would you say are some common mistakes you’ve seen creators make when it comes to setting rates?

I think sometimes there’s an arbitrariness to it. Or people just get excited about getting a job. Clients can throw a figure at you and say, “Oh, this is the budget.” And you’re like, “Ahh, this is big money!” Then you start the work and realise, oh wow, this thing was supposed to be for two weeks, now it’s three months, and we’re still here, changing things, editing, and the brief has completely changed. Meanwhile, you’ve had to cancel other gigs. In the end, you actually lose money.

Let’s say someone wants to give you $20,000 to do a project. And you’re like, “Wow, 20k! Mad.” Next thing you know, six months have gone by, and you’re still on it. What you thought was “let me make quick cash” turns into what I like to call Ogbanje (evil spirit) work, it sucks your blood. My thing is: even when you get the email, leave it for a day. Breathe over it. Read through it.

For me, that’s part of setting the tone for how I want to work with people. I don’t want to be the person you constantly call for last-minute work.

What do you have against impromptu bookings?

I find it disrespectful after a while. I think there’s still an undervaluing of creative work. It always seems to be the last thing considered in a project’s planning. Part of how I want to work, even in the future, is to be brought in from the beginning of the project.

We all want to get to a place where we know what we’re doing for the next six months, not constantly living in a state of scrambling for work. We want to be able to say, from October to December, I’m working on XYZ. That creates structure. It allows us to do our best work because we can plan.

There are times when it feels like there’s no money or work, and everything is just scattered. How do you fight off the urge to charge whatever it takes to survive for the next couple of days?

I have a principle: if I’m doing a gig for the money, it mustn’t stress me out. It always comes back to time, how much of my time or emotional energy is it going to take to complete the job? If it’s too much, then it’s not worth it.

Speaking of your multiple career paths, how have you been able to generate income from all these different sources?

For me, it’s about putting structure in place. I’m an artist, but I also don’t want to be poor or hungry. So I place value on everything I do. I approach my creativity like it’s a company with different services.

As a poet, I write commissioned work for brands, clients, museums, whoever. I also perform at events: weddings, funerals, birthdays, office parties, Christmas parties, you name it. I teach a poetry workshop, which earns income too. And I have albums people download or stream online, which also brings in revenue.

I think it’s really important to create structure within your creative practice. You should always be earning from at least one of your creative outputs, in some form. Having these multiple streams has created options for me. I can choose who I want to work with, and what I want to work on. I don’t get overly excited about every new gig that comes in.

I don’t believe in over-productivity. I don’t believe in being overworked or overstressed. I’m really about holistic living, your rest time, your friendships, your family. Those things are important to me.

Structure gives you the power to plan, to save, to have stability, and to breathe. You’re not desperate every time an email lands asking if you’re available for a job.

What’s something you know now about the business side of being a creator that you honestly wish you’d known when you were starting out?

You’ve got to have certain things that serve as marketing tools. I make videos, and those videos help me share my work. So someone comes across it and thinks, “Oh, who is this?” They’re listening to it. Even if they didn’t care about poetry before, or didn’t think poetry and music go together, after watching a video, they’re interested. That’s a marketing tool.

There are elements of your work that you’ll need to invest in, either with time or money, and treat them like your billboard. Like a TV presenter who starts a YouTube series. Or a performer who keeps themselves visible through a vlog. That kind of content can be your marketing tool.

Alright folks, we’ve had Wana Wana talk to us today. She’s been absolutely amazing and shared so much with us on the show. That’s all we have for you, thank you for joining us.

Until I come your way next time, take care and bye-bye.