Cashing Out

There's a few artists and directors who call me on a regular basis. We chew the fat, then they ask: "So...where's the work? I've got a bunch of freelance work but it runs out next month and I've got to start lining up more stuff."

These folks make north of a hundred grand a year, have nice houses and nicer cars, have a kid in private school. But because they're running on a fast treadmill, working multiple animation jobs, juggling schedules, and worrying if their cash flow is going to sustain their high maintenance lifestyle becomes the central focus of existence...

Which is, of course, why they're scrambling. You have ninety-five thousand bucks going out, you need ninety-five thousand bucks coming in.

Now I've been in and around the 'toon business long enough to know that it ebbs and flows, that the $150,000 you make one year can drop to $50,000 (or less) the next, and there's often not a hell of a lot you can do about it. Your contacts dry up. The studio you've been counting on suddenly has half its normal quota of shows, and all of a sudden a secretary you don't know asks you to take a storyboard test.

It's at times like these that artists mutter: "Screw it. There's got to be something better."

So maybe there is:

While there's no way to quantify how many of us are eyeing the exits, evidence suggests that more people are taking the idea seriously. Books about early retirement are steady sellers, and virtual communities of would-be escape artists thrive on the web. Fortunately, it doesn't take an enormous nest egg to fund a life-changing move...

In 1991 Akaisha and Billy Kaderli were just 38, but they had amassed $500,000 in savings. They ditched their jobs, and since then they've extended their finances by sticking to a budget — and by staying in the stock market to make sure their portfolio keeps appreciating. To lower the cost of investing, the Kaderlis moved most of their holdings out of actively managed funds and into a Standard & Poor's 500 index fund. The 1990s bull market made them look brilliant: Assuming their performance matched the market, their portfolio would now be worth $1.8 million...

Years ago, an assistant animator who couldn't find work and was running out of money came into the office. "I just can't get hired anywhere," she said. "What should I do?" I suggested she sell her equity-rich house and move to Costa Rica.

"It's the Switzerland of Central America," I said, "and it's cheap. Your money would go a long way down there."

She didn't act on my suggestion, but I sometimes wonder: if I'd been in her position, would I have done it?

Maybe and maybe not. But the reason I made the suggestion in the first place was because of a book I read when I became TAG business rep. The tome was titled, Cashing In on the American Dream: How to Retire at 35 by Paul Terhorst:

In a conversational style, Terhorst explains how he realized his job was sapping the life out of him, and how he used his skills as an accountant to devise a plan that would enable him to retire at 39 years of age...

Cashing in on the American Dream advocates a no-nonsense approach to determining just what you want in life. Do you want to be free of working for others? Then it might mean giving up your car and dinners out. But it doesn't have to mean giving up what you really love (or need). Terhorst and his wife, Vicki, have been retired almost twenty years now and have spent much of it traveling the world. They have health insurance abroad, because it's cheaper than U.S. insurance, and better.

The ideas in Cashing In the American Dream changed my thinking. Not so much the "retire young" part (although that was beguiling) but the "live below your means" part, the "build up a stash and expand your options" part.

Since that office conversation, I've seen a number of artists ride their high-earning years in the cartoon business off into early retirement. They avoided the new car and big house syndrome, dodged the temptation to spend every nickel of their fat weekly check, and are now doing exactly what they want: collecting vintage cars, painting landscapes, drawing comic books. They dip their big toes back into the animation pool from time to time, but for the most part do exactly what they want.

They lead -- dare I say it? -- beguiling lives.