The Studio Source.com

When you’re about to take a reluctant summer sabbatical, you want to step out on a high note. You want to leave wise words for anyone who happens by while you’re away, something a little more pithy than “Back soon, thanks for dropping by.”

This will be my last post until September. It’s a few days late (and for those of you who were wondering, yes, there are still issues with the feed).

As I sat working on a number of uninspiring first drafts, this little gem drifted by on my Twitter stream, from @Marelisa:

“It takes as much energy to wish as it does to plan.”
—Eleanor Roosevelt

And within minutes, from @escapeintolife:

“You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. Fools stand on their island opportunities and look toward another land. There is no other land, there is no other life but this.”
— Henry David Thoreau

Puts a few things into perspective, doesn’t it.

If only it were as easy as tacking a couple of inspirational quotes on your bulletin board.

Let me share a little secret: sometimes I want to grab very talented people by their lapels, look deep into their eyes, show them all my teeth and say, “Will you just stop underselling yourself already? This is your freaking profession!”

But it’s not as easy as that, either. Plus scaring people isn’t great for business.

It’s not just how—it’s why
If you’ve followed The Studio Source for any length of time, you will have noticed a recurring theme. There are fewer step-by-step how-to marketing articles in favour of fixing faulty thinking, or shifting to your desired customer’s buying space. And for good reason.

You have to wrap your head around the emotional stuff—your own self-doubt as well as what is most appealing to your best customer.

We’re odd, neurotic creatures. All of us. Society’s attitude towards “artists” isn’t necessarily encouraging, either. Being an artist is a wonderful, sexy idea—until you claim it as your profession. Then the barbarian hordes either smile indulgently, as if you’re trying to learn to tie your own shoes, or treat you like some kind of money-sucking blight on the cultural landscape. To add insult to injury, after curling their collective lip at you, they happily trot off to HomeSense to buy some discounted factory-made piece of crap to stick on their walls or decorate their shelves.

Not that I have an opinion or anything.

It’s hard to move forward with that ugly movie playing in your head. Even the most inspiring how-tos turn thin and pale if you can only see the woman who thinks art is something she buys at the mall, or the guy who believes owning the latest version of PaintShop Photo Pro makes him a designer.

You really get into trouble when you lose sight of why you do what you do. Why you chose your profession, your self-created job, why you decided to build a real, sustainable business.

Commit
You hear the message to follow your passion, but that message is often a half-truth. It’s only partly true because passion is part of the picture. Choosing a profession means you get the whole pie, not just the juicy stuff in the middle. The idea of passion, like the idea of being an artist, isn’t enough. Too many of us, thoroughly trained to recite snappy slogans like mantras, confuse passion with pleasure. Because we don’t want to face the dirty secret about following your passion.

Passion—real, grown-up passion—is not always fun. Sometimes it’s damned hard. It can keep you up at night. Sometimes it can break your heart.

But it’s not supposed to be frolicking-in-the-meadow fun. That’s not what passion is about.

Passion is about sticking with it. It’s about doing everything necessary to make that last assault on the summit, push past mile 25, and kick over every obstacle you come to, even if your knees are bleeding and you’re scared to death.

Passion isn’t freedom from fear. Passion is bigger than fear.

Doing what you love doesn’t have to be about money
If you want to follow the pleasure path, enjoy your avocation. Pick it up whenever the mood strikes, dabble, shrug off the little setbacks, and don’t beat yourself up about it. It’s not necessary.

If you don’t want to turn your lifetime obsession into a job, with all the requirements of any viable business, don’t do it. Don’t even consider it.

I’m an avid gardener. No, that’s not true. I’m a rabid gardener. People have suggested I become a professional landscaper or start a greenhouse. It’ll never happen. I won’t turn something I do for myself into an obligation.

It’s not just pleasure. It’s hard work. But I get twitchy if I can’t do it.

And I don’t need to turn it into money. I have other ways to earn a living.

Respect your profession
I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve reminded friends and colleagues they’re running a business. That other professionals don’t fret about pricing, or treat themselves and their work with disrespect. You can’t turn your work into a skeleton that won’t stay in the closet and expect to be successful. Or stay sane, for that matter.

Yes, I get it. The marketplace is big, bad and ugly. People make stupid comments, balk at prices, yadda yadda.

Those people aren’t your customers. Their passion lives in another place. Walmart, maybe. Or reality TV.

Forget them.

Find the people who get what you do. The people who want good stuff, not cheap stuff. Their passion lives where you do.

Have your say
Are you guilty of underpricing? Are you secretly (or not so secretly) nervous about your work? What would turn that around? What made you choose your profession?