Fall back in love with amateurism.

Don’t get me wrong; turning pro is great.

Being paid to do what you love is a privilege.

The pursuit of excellence in your chosen field is meaningful.

There’s deep pleasure (as well as great pain) in striving for mastery.

After all, if you’re going to do something, you might as well do it to the best of your ability.

And if your ability to do something is significant enough that other people will fund or pay you to do it, then congratulations; you’ve just turned pro.

But that’s a strange moment.

One minute you’re working to earn and using your ‘free’ time to indulge your passion.

The next minute your passion is earning you money; someone or something is buying your time.

What you do, or what you make is no longer measured in blood, sweat and tears, but in pounds and pence.

Your passion is now your commodity.

Your hobby has become your job.

So far so great; it’s everything you’ve always wanted.

You are among the fortunate minority who get paid to do something they love.

As long as you do love it still.

But what if, one day, you wake up and you realise you don’t love it any more?

Not like you did.

Maybe it’s not how it used to be.

Now you’re selling your passion, one hour, one artwork, one sprint at a time.

You have races to win, sales to generate, loans to repay, KPIs to hit, staff to manage, overheads to cover, audiences to attract, tickets to sell, critics to please.

Maybe your free time failed to refill with new passions and instead, the hours expand to fit in more time working.

Time that’s not yours any more.

Time you sold.

So what? That’s how most people feel about work; and some don’t even get the chance to feel that.

But what if you’re someone who needs to feel passionate about what you’re spending your time doing?

Someone who can’t do their best work unless they feel like they’re doing something meaningful?

If you can’t rekindle the same passion for your hobby-turned-job, then you need something new to care about.

You’ve spent so long trying to turn pro you’ve forgotten the pleasure in being an amateur.

Amataur, from the Latin amator, lover.

“In an age of instrumentalism the hobbyist is a subversive: they insist that some things are worth doing for themselves alone.”

“Love is a verb. A doing word.”

Find something new to love.

Or rekindle an old flame.

And start doing it.

For the love of it.

Not for validation.

Or money.

But for the radical act of its own doing.

Fall back in love with being a lover.

Turn amateur again.