I agree with Balzac and 19th-century writers, black and white, who say, 'I write for money.' Yes, I think everybody should be paid handsomely; I insist on it, and I pay people who work for me, or with me, handsomely.

Money protects what matters most

There's something refreshing about Angelou's refusal to dress up survival as nobility. We live in a culture that often treats payment as a slightly embarrassing detail—something serious artists supposedly transcend. But Angelou knew that writing, like any skilled work, deserves compensation. When you pay attention to your own needs, you're not being mercenary; you're being honest about the actual cost of existence.

The less obvious part is how this connects to integrity rather than undermining it. By naming money as a legitimate reason to work, Angelou sidesteps the trap of pretending inspiration will sustain you through unpaid labor. This clarity actually protects your creative vision. When you're financially secure, you're less desperate to please, less likely to compromise for crumbs. You can afford to say no.

There's also a quiet generosity embedded here. Angelou didn't just talk about getting paid—she insisted on paying others well. That matters. When we normalize fair wages for ourselves and others, we're building something more solid than art for art's sake. We're building a world where talented people aren't constantly choosing between integrity and rent.