Last week I was offered to get paid doing something I do daily, which was to run.
I never had actually considered there was any way to monetize this hobby, er, addiction, of mine. As someone who got into running a bit later than most, and aside from being: a) A model or run-fluencer or b) an elite winning races, I figured there’d be no way to make money running and I am not, nor want to be, any of the above.
(Doing a Fast And Furious fun run)
Now, what I got paid to do was a unique and very localized service for someone visiting from out of the country. I accepted the offer because the terms were not compromising my time or my ideals. But also survival and necessity (the job market is brutal right now!) I did end up having a good time doing it though and it all got me wondering about where that line is drawn between doing the thing I like to do and falling into the modern capitalist trap of aiming to monetize everything, or simply put, making it a job.
Of course, using the word trap above implies that it is a bad thing to attempt to make money on a passion or hobby, and of course it can be, but in this social media age, we see that anyone can make a successful career from doing whatever they want, as long as they create consistent content. Whether it’s traveling, make up application, lifestyle branding or eating, there is a way to make money from doing simple day to day things. But is it that simple?
After having spent time with an actual influencer who does get paid to “live life” they explained to me how hard and endless the work can be, even though they claimed to love it. Creating content more than once a day is a lot of work and takes a lot of time, which is precious and priceless. When you spend your time doing what you love, you’re not thinking about time and you enter a flow state, so time is elastic. For me, the time spent playing the drums, or running in this instance, isn’t something I thought I could get paid to do. In the context of play becoming work, where does the play end and the work begin? Basically, can your hobby be your job without sullying your love for it? For me, it’s complicated.
In the 1970’s, psychologists Don Kelly and Daryl Conner created a now often copied and repeated model called the Emotional Cycle of Change. In it, there are 5 emotional stages one must go through to achieve success through voluntary change. I am applying this to starting a hobby and making it successful.
Uninformed optimism (The shiny new object is amusing and fun to do.)
Informed pessimism (The first set of roadblocks, boredom or resistance.)
Hopeful realism (Crossing the insecurity border into more comfortability with the project and even though you’re still anxious, you push on.)
Informed optimism (Some success and you ultimately feel better that you’ve made the decision to pursue this. This stage allows you also to impart your experience onto others.)
Completion (The goal is reached or you’ve hit the spot you aimed to hit.)
Look at this in terms of the effort put in to being a creative. From my experience as a musician, I have to learn the instrument, practice regularly, gig regularly, which requires driving, being up late, spending hours and hours in bars and clubs, time booking shows, being turned down consistently, hours of recording, mixing, deliberating over art work, making the artwork for an album, making fliers, videos, social media content, etc etc you get the point. It’s A LOT OF WORK. And time. All of this generally coincides with having a full time job, so essentially music is a second job that requires as much time commitment, but with close to zero pay. For me, all of the above work is not “hard” nor is it something I think twice about. I just do it. It’s the same as the influencer I talked to. She gladly takes the time to do the work because she loves it. The difference is that she is getting paid to do this and I’m assuming that $100 gig, split between 4 people, is good enough after doing this for over 20 years. She was smart and added monetary value to her work and experience, but I have yet to come to terms with doing that for myself, so because of that, I tend to straddle between stages 2-4 in the aforementioned scale. The idea of a stage 5 “completion” seems impossible.
The few times I could have made a living playing music, I rejected, passed and outright scoffed at the opportunity. The idea, not the reality, that music would be a job seemed ridiculous and a fear kicked in that I would stop loving it if it became a “job.” At the time these jobs didn’t align with my ideals, or at least what I assumed to be the right way to be a success, but life isn’t always the exact way you planned or assume it to be, so I decided long ago that I don’t NEED to be paid for this thing I love to do and am good at, but that’s naive, and frankly, stupid. Why do I feel this way?
“If you want to make a movie in LA you have to dedicate yourself to it without hope—not because you expect something will come of it, but because you like doing dumb things with your friends.”
This quote can be applied to music making. It’s almost as if this idea of playing, being with friends, creating something out of nothing, is not noble or, in the eyes of capitalism, productive. Spending time with intention to create, with no expectations, doesn’t help someone’s bottom line, so perhaps that could be the difference between someone constantly posting on an app owned by billionaires, versus people in a room creating for no one but themselves. Maybe it’s growing up in Los Angeles or just living in an era that, whatever one does must serve a capitalistic purpose, has stuck with me, so anything I like to do just to do, I do for free as a “fuck you” to capitalism. Besides, I started playing music in the 1990’s when “selling out” was considered a fate worse than death and that to be pure and honest and punk, or whatever, one shouldn’t assume to be paid or have success perusing their art. This idea is outdated but it still sticks with me.
Maybe even more accurate, is that I have a lack of self worth, so I can’t fathom being paid to do something I am actually good at and admitting to. I just can’t put a dollar amount on myself or my time and because of that, I have been taken advantage of and set forward a pattern of accepting very little compensation if at all. Sadly, I know that I am not the only one who feels this way and this new paradigm of capitalizing on one’s time and art as content brings up these conflicted feelings.
I think about this a lot and I am coming to terms with it daily, so when something like this paid running gig comes up, I have to really consider it and be thoughtful about why. It may seem like a no brainer to most, but I have to grapple with my worth daily and the “how’s” and “why’s” I come up with can fill a weekly Substack, but the more I become ok with it and the more I stay curious, the more I’ll align with Kelly and Connor’s stage 4 optimism than Stage 2 pessimism, which is a good thing.
Perhaps I should take a lesson from the influencers. They seem to be living out hobbies and passions without much self doubt while getting paid and even if they do doubt themselves, they’re still doing it and that’s the key. They know their time is worth something, so may as well do something worth their time.
Perhaps stage 5 isn’t completion, but actually acceptance and reminding yourself what you do is worth doing, sharing and being compensated for, so keep at it! (NOTE: I’m talking to myself here…)
Thanks again for reading. I won’t guilt trip about the realities of money, but I am working on paid subscriber pieces (content...) so if you can, consider a paid subscription to get more of my mind.
Further reading:
- ’s fantastic zine about loving what you do and if and how to make it a job.
Rebecca Jennings article in VOX “Everyone’s A Sell Out Now”
I was just having a conversation with a mutual about a $55k full-time mid-senior salary job ad. I can't even get paid for the things I don't love.