You start standing beside the road holding up a "Will compose avant garde music for food". Every one ignores you at best, honks and flips up off, or toss out empty bottles at you at worst. After three weeks of constant rejection you get a job. You write a birthday jingle for a eccentric blond tits lady who is a little bohemian even though she married a mogul for money. You go to her home and write up a three minute piece that takes you eight hours. She gives you her doggie bag of fine Italian food from Luigi's where she ate a couple of days ago. It will probably will another couple weeks before your next offer.