On my most ambitious mornings, my alarm goes off at 5:23am (I always set my alarms to numbers ending in 3—I know, it’s weird), and I drag myself out of bed, eager to put in some writing time before the kids wake up.
My opinion on this topic has changed radically in the last couple of years. I also used to believe in that pie in the sky idea of having a vocation that ticked all the boxes, but I’m quite opposed to the whole idea now. Now I feel that what I do for money should be something that I have strong drive and conviction to do. I am a farmer, I wouldn’t say I’m a good farmer. I earn less than what I could elsewhere, but there’s something about the generational aspect to it that gives me immense drive and conviction to do it. I have lots interests, side hustles and hobbies - lots of fingers in lots of pies. The thing is I think all of those pies make my life dynamic and feed my creativity. Go heap up a whole lot of financial pressure on one of those things I love to do and I don’t think I will love to do it anymore. The big thing is just balance, if you start saying no too much to family time, serving in church, then you are in trouble. Unfortunately when I am burning the candle at both ends i can quickly tell because then I have no words to write - it’s a bit of a canary in the coal mine.
In 2019, I was about ready to give up writing novels, and royalties (or lack thereof) was one of the biggest reasons. However, the thought of giving it up made me so depressed. I finally changed my attitude by reminding myself that other people spend time and money on hobbies like knitting or restoring old cars--why couldn't I enjoy my writing that way? It made all the difference--since then, I've written and published over 50 books and short stories.
Thanks for this reminder, Will. Two things arose for me as I read this:
1. Long ago I longed to be a caricature artist, so I upped the heat on what had been a fun hobby, studying, practicing, and going to conferences to improve my skills. Finally, I hung my shingle and started working professionally--and it killed all love of it. Absolutely disastrous. I made fine money, but it was no longer enjoyable. I quit a couple years later and have not drawn since. I learned the hard way not to try to wrench money from your hobby.
2. The opposite end of the spectrum was writing fiction and poetry: I've always done it, and although once in awhile I sent a piece off for publication, I always received a rejection letter. That was a blessing. Over 30 years I've learned so much, and I still love it. In 1.5 years I get to retire early and write full time, without the worry of making money or publication pressure. While I of course do hope my novels and stories find an audience (what writer doesn't?) it's completely about finding kindred spirits, talking about fiction, learning and growing--plus contributing to American literature in some small way. :)
Don, wow, thanks for sharing some of your story. It’s interesting, isn’t it, how making a passion a professional pursuit can kill the fun? Appreciate you reading and being here.
100%. Getting paid means someone else wants you to do the work. Not getting paid means you are free to do what you like.
If we’re really committed to writing words that are good, beautiful *and true*, we can’t be needing to get money from it at the same time. It creates a conflict of interest.
Imagine how Elijah’s words might have changed if he was hoping Ahab would pay him…
Anna, well said. Although it's not required to get paid for one's art, there are so many poets, writers, musicians, and artists who could only create the beautiful things they did because patrons funded them, and I think that's good. There's a place for it. However, for most of us, we won't get paid (or, at least, not much), and that's okay too!
Yes, my comment was a bit imbalanced 🙂. I do love it when artists get paid, actually… just not if it skews their art to reflect donor ideology. Being unpaid (or self-patroned) limits that temptation, but if you can retain creative freedom while getting paid that is really nice — and it allows more people to have the honour of participating in the art. And God did make us for community, after all…
This was exactly the message I needed to hear today! I also spend my day job working for Penguin, but try to squeeze in some writing when I can (and am not overwhelmed with obligations to my family).
The venn diagram is a perfect visualization for this struggle. I appreciate your encouragement that even if we aren’t being paid for our creative endeavors, that does not mean that they are not worthwhile.
Like many freelancers I either have paid work and no time to write, or time to write but no paid work. Both are stressful, but I've become much better at accepting my situation in recent years. At the moment it's all work and no play, but I know my time to write will come again, and I'm doing ok with getting work accepted and published, so I kind of do have the best of both worlds. The trick as you say, is to earn money from writing, and I do want to achieve that. For now I'll continue as I am. Thank you for a super helpful post 🤓
Love the revised venn diagram, much more accurate to how I feel!
I'm oftentimes envious of people who lucked out loving things that make a lot of money - I work in tech and don't like it all that much, but some of my co workers love it. Meanwhile, if I quit my job to do things I actually liked, I'd take an enormous pay cut.
Hi Will, thanks for your thoughts. I think Paul, with all his intellect, chose to make tents while pursuing his passion. And Jesus Himself was a carpenter. Our passion for ministry or work in the world is certainly part of who we are, but a desire to be a writer or an author cannot define us. I think they are too small to contain the greatness of the Creator in a transforming human. I hope it’s okay to share a recent post here (I’ll happily remove it if not). I think it touches on similar themes to what you’ve written and may be helpful to some?
“What if scarcity—not having as much time as you want to pursue your passion—creates the necessary urgency to do your best work? For some writers (or fill in the blank with your passion), having eight uninterrupted hours a day to pursue your passion would eventually feel more like purgatory than paradise.”
…this stirred up a great deal in me which tells me you’re doing something right! Here are my thoughts….
This argument mistakes healthy constraint for systemic scarcity—and in doing so, romanticizes conditions that prevent most people from ever realizing their creative potential at all.
Yes, deadlines focus the mind. Yes, limits can sharpen decisions. But there’s a profound difference between choosing boundaries within abundance and having boundaries imposed by survival. The writer who has eight hours available but chooses to work in focused two-hour sprints is exercising creative discipline. The writer who has two hours because they’re working three jobs to pay rent is experiencing deprivation. Only one of these is “urgency.” The other is theft.
The scarcity-breeds-urgency thesis also ignores what actually happens under chronic constraint: not urgency, but exhaustion. The cognitive load of constant time pressure doesn’t produce your sharpest thinking—it produces your most expedient thinking. You’re not doing your best work when you’re perpetually racing the clock; you’re doing the work that can survive the conditions. That’s adaptation, not optimization.
More tellingly, this argument almost always comes from people defending their own scarcity while already having tasted abundance—or from those who’ve never experienced true creative freedom and have built an identity around making do. It’s a form of Stockholm syndrome with capitalism’s time theft, reframing exploitation as creative virtue.
What writers actually need isn’t artificial urgency manufactured by deprivation. They need sovereignty over their attention. They need the psychological safety to pursue dead ends, to rest when stuck, to let ideas compost. They need what Virginia Woolf called “a room of one’s own”—not as luxury, but as prerequisite. The anxiety that scarcity produces isn’t creative fuel; it’s creative triage.
If eight hours felt like purgatory, the problem wouldn’t be the hours—it would be that the work itself has become obligation rather than calling. And that’s worth examining directly, rather than outsourcing your motivation to artificial scarcity and calling it a feature instead of a failure of imagination about what your creative life could actually be.
So true. Horses are one of my passions. (I have a field full of them.) But working in the industry in my younger years killed the joy of a stress-free ride and pure downtime. So I let my job pay for my horses.
I needed to hear this today. I got on Substack at my daughter’s insistence that I write . I am a relative newbie but the deluge of writing tips, tricks and ways to monetize are daunting. I am old enough to realize that I am on this platform to discover new truths about myself and life. Your idea about living in the gaps is unique and I really enjoyed your article. Please check out my posts and let me know what you think.
Will, I appreciate your perspective on this. The initial dream might start out as what one would expect: fame, fortune, and “the life and lifestyle of a successful author”. However, with each step of my own writing journey, I realize that I’m doing it for my own self-benefit, first and foremost. However, if others gain their own inspiration or joy from my hobby, all the better. In the meantime, my day job provides the comfort, facilities and wherewithal to let my writing roam freely with my imagination. I’m more excited to see where it all leads and those who join me on my voyage of discovery.
Tonia, good reminder that every season of life leaves us feeling pressed for time to pursue creative things. Appreciate that, lest I start dreaming about "some day" when I'll "finally have the time." :)
I love this. I am fortunate to have a vocation that I enjoy… but my writing lives in the gap… and quite possibly always will. While occasionally I do daydream about writing as a part of my job but I would lose so much bringing my passion into that space. In the gap there is no pressure to conform my passion into anything except exactly what I want it to be. There is total freedom and that’s part of why it is so joyful
My opinion on this topic has changed radically in the last couple of years. I also used to believe in that pie in the sky idea of having a vocation that ticked all the boxes, but I’m quite opposed to the whole idea now. Now I feel that what I do for money should be something that I have strong drive and conviction to do. I am a farmer, I wouldn’t say I’m a good farmer. I earn less than what I could elsewhere, but there’s something about the generational aspect to it that gives me immense drive and conviction to do it. I have lots interests, side hustles and hobbies - lots of fingers in lots of pies. The thing is I think all of those pies make my life dynamic and feed my creativity. Go heap up a whole lot of financial pressure on one of those things I love to do and I don’t think I will love to do it anymore. The big thing is just balance, if you start saying no too much to family time, serving in church, then you are in trouble. Unfortunately when I am burning the candle at both ends i can quickly tell because then I have no words to write - it’s a bit of a canary in the coal mine.
Such wisdom here. Thank you for sharing.
In 2019, I was about ready to give up writing novels, and royalties (or lack thereof) was one of the biggest reasons. However, the thought of giving it up made me so depressed. I finally changed my attitude by reminding myself that other people spend time and money on hobbies like knitting or restoring old cars--why couldn't I enjoy my writing that way? It made all the difference--since then, I've written and published over 50 books and short stories.
Karina, this is awesome! Wow, 50 books and stories? That shows such persistence, and a real love for writing. Well done.
Thanks for this reminder, Will. Two things arose for me as I read this:
1. Long ago I longed to be a caricature artist, so I upped the heat on what had been a fun hobby, studying, practicing, and going to conferences to improve my skills. Finally, I hung my shingle and started working professionally--and it killed all love of it. Absolutely disastrous. I made fine money, but it was no longer enjoyable. I quit a couple years later and have not drawn since. I learned the hard way not to try to wrench money from your hobby.
2. The opposite end of the spectrum was writing fiction and poetry: I've always done it, and although once in awhile I sent a piece off for publication, I always received a rejection letter. That was a blessing. Over 30 years I've learned so much, and I still love it. In 1.5 years I get to retire early and write full time, without the worry of making money or publication pressure. While I of course do hope my novels and stories find an audience (what writer doesn't?) it's completely about finding kindred spirits, talking about fiction, learning and growing--plus contributing to American literature in some small way. :)
Don, wow, thanks for sharing some of your story. It’s interesting, isn’t it, how making a passion a professional pursuit can kill the fun? Appreciate you reading and being here.
A great post, Will. Much needed by creatives and other folks alike. God bless.
Mary, thanks for the kind words. Glad this was helpful.
100%. Getting paid means someone else wants you to do the work. Not getting paid means you are free to do what you like.
If we’re really committed to writing words that are good, beautiful *and true*, we can’t be needing to get money from it at the same time. It creates a conflict of interest.
Imagine how Elijah’s words might have changed if he was hoping Ahab would pay him…
Viva la pay gap!
Anna, well said. Although it's not required to get paid for one's art, there are so many poets, writers, musicians, and artists who could only create the beautiful things they did because patrons funded them, and I think that's good. There's a place for it. However, for most of us, we won't get paid (or, at least, not much), and that's okay too!
Yes, my comment was a bit imbalanced 🙂. I do love it when artists get paid, actually… just not if it skews their art to reflect donor ideology. Being unpaid (or self-patroned) limits that temptation, but if you can retain creative freedom while getting paid that is really nice — and it allows more people to have the honour of participating in the art. And God did make us for community, after all…
This was exactly the message I needed to hear today! I also spend my day job working for Penguin, but try to squeeze in some writing when I can (and am not overwhelmed with obligations to my family).
The venn diagram is a perfect visualization for this struggle. I appreciate your encouragement that even if we aren’t being paid for our creative endeavors, that does not mean that they are not worthwhile.
Kari, so good to meet a fellow Penguin-ite (is that what we call ourselves?!) Thank you for reading.
Like many freelancers I either have paid work and no time to write, or time to write but no paid work. Both are stressful, but I've become much better at accepting my situation in recent years. At the moment it's all work and no play, but I know my time to write will come again, and I'm doing ok with getting work accepted and published, so I kind of do have the best of both worlds. The trick as you say, is to earn money from writing, and I do want to achieve that. For now I'll continue as I am. Thank you for a super helpful post 🤓
Lisa, cheering you on!
Love the revised venn diagram, much more accurate to how I feel!
I'm oftentimes envious of people who lucked out loving things that make a lot of money - I work in tech and don't like it all that much, but some of my co workers love it. Meanwhile, if I quit my job to do things I actually liked, I'd take an enormous pay cut.
Jake, yes, this is the tradeoff. Thank you for sharing... this is the tension many of us face daily :)
Hi Will, thanks for your thoughts. I think Paul, with all his intellect, chose to make tents while pursuing his passion. And Jesus Himself was a carpenter. Our passion for ministry or work in the world is certainly part of who we are, but a desire to be a writer or an author cannot define us. I think they are too small to contain the greatness of the Creator in a transforming human. I hope it’s okay to share a recent post here (I’ll happily remove it if not). I think it touches on similar themes to what you’ve written and may be helpful to some?
https://spiritualdirectionforchristians.substack.com/p/notes-on-calling-and-vocation-leaders
Thank you, Andy. I too thought of Paul and Jesus as I wrote this. Thank you for sharing this.
“What if scarcity—not having as much time as you want to pursue your passion—creates the necessary urgency to do your best work? For some writers (or fill in the blank with your passion), having eight uninterrupted hours a day to pursue your passion would eventually feel more like purgatory than paradise.”
…this stirred up a great deal in me which tells me you’re doing something right! Here are my thoughts….
This argument mistakes healthy constraint for systemic scarcity—and in doing so, romanticizes conditions that prevent most people from ever realizing their creative potential at all.
Yes, deadlines focus the mind. Yes, limits can sharpen decisions. But there’s a profound difference between choosing boundaries within abundance and having boundaries imposed by survival. The writer who has eight hours available but chooses to work in focused two-hour sprints is exercising creative discipline. The writer who has two hours because they’re working three jobs to pay rent is experiencing deprivation. Only one of these is “urgency.” The other is theft.
The scarcity-breeds-urgency thesis also ignores what actually happens under chronic constraint: not urgency, but exhaustion. The cognitive load of constant time pressure doesn’t produce your sharpest thinking—it produces your most expedient thinking. You’re not doing your best work when you’re perpetually racing the clock; you’re doing the work that can survive the conditions. That’s adaptation, not optimization.
More tellingly, this argument almost always comes from people defending their own scarcity while already having tasted abundance—or from those who’ve never experienced true creative freedom and have built an identity around making do. It’s a form of Stockholm syndrome with capitalism’s time theft, reframing exploitation as creative virtue.
What writers actually need isn’t artificial urgency manufactured by deprivation. They need sovereignty over their attention. They need the psychological safety to pursue dead ends, to rest when stuck, to let ideas compost. They need what Virginia Woolf called “a room of one’s own”—not as luxury, but as prerequisite. The anxiety that scarcity produces isn’t creative fuel; it’s creative triage.
If eight hours felt like purgatory, the problem wouldn’t be the hours—it would be that the work itself has become obligation rather than calling. And that’s worth examining directly, rather than outsourcing your motivation to artificial scarcity and calling it a feature instead of a failure of imagination about what your creative life could actually be.
Monica (or do you prefer Dr. Band), thank you for this thoughtful response. I'm grateful this stirred something in you. Appreciate you being here.
Will, that’s very kind of you—thank you for reading my ramble. And, Monica is great! Appreciate you asking!
So true. Horses are one of my passions. (I have a field full of them.) But working in the industry in my younger years killed the joy of a stress-free ride and pure downtime. So I let my job pay for my horses.
Wow, a field full of horses? Can my family come ride?! ;)
lol. I used to have “guest friendly” horses- but now they are all fire-breathing barrel racing dragons.
Thank you for this wonderful piece!
Chibueze, you're very welcome!
I needed to hear this today. I got on Substack at my daughter’s insistence that I write . I am a relative newbie but the deluge of writing tips, tricks and ways to monetize are daunting. I am old enough to realize that I am on this platform to discover new truths about myself and life. Your idea about living in the gaps is unique and I really enjoyed your article. Please check out my posts and let me know what you think.
Nabanita, I'm glad this encouraged you. Appreciate you reading!
Will, I appreciate your perspective on this. The initial dream might start out as what one would expect: fame, fortune, and “the life and lifestyle of a successful author”. However, with each step of my own writing journey, I realize that I’m doing it for my own self-benefit, first and foremost. However, if others gain their own inspiration or joy from my hobby, all the better. In the meantime, my day job provides the comfort, facilities and wherewithal to let my writing roam freely with my imagination. I’m more excited to see where it all leads and those who join me on my voyage of discovery.
Mark, I agree that writing must start with our enjoyment. And if that's all it remains, it's still worthwhile. Thank you for sharing.
Ugg….you are singing my song—and my kids are grown! But there’s always the struggle. Thanks for the good words.
Tonia, good reminder that every season of life leaves us feeling pressed for time to pursue creative things. Appreciate that, lest I start dreaming about "some day" when I'll "finally have the time." :)
I love this. I am fortunate to have a vocation that I enjoy… but my writing lives in the gap… and quite possibly always will. While occasionally I do daydream about writing as a part of my job but I would lose so much bringing my passion into that space. In the gap there is no pressure to conform my passion into anything except exactly what I want it to be. There is total freedom and that’s part of why it is so joyful
Lauren, thank you for sharing this. I have the same daydream but also share your reservations.