“Imitation is Suicide. Insist on yourself; never imitate.” – Emerson

Be you at any cost.

It’s a mantra I hold pretty close. I pretend it’s a voice from above or within reminding me that my best hope at flourishing is to embrace the lot that is me.

But what do I do on days when I don’t like me very much?

If I’m smart, I lean in to the parts I don’t like.

Wait! But what if I’m in the midst of external criticism while others are producing stuff that blows me away – or worse… I think their stuff is lame and everyone else is celebrating it – what then? What if this is all happening and deep down, I’m just tired and disappointed with what is showing up in my life?

If I’m committed to being a creative, I go again.

Better yet, I double down on me. Any alternative is a sucker bet. In fact, I’m not even sure there’s an alternative. It may be the most sure wager I know. Of course if there’s truth here, I suspect I’m not the only game in town. It might be time to reclaim your chips too and put ‘em back to work on you.

“Our arts, our occupations, our marriages, our religion, we have not chosen, but society has chosen for us. We are parlour soldiers. We shun the rugged battle of fate, where strength is born.” – Emerson

A lot of life is preloaded.

My family, my socio-economic start, my race, my geography… I had no control over any of them and yet I live under them. When circumstances are favorable, I feel like I’ve won the lottery. When my back hurts or my internet goes out, I curse the gods.

The question I’m interested in is where do I take a stand regardless of my circumstances?

What do I care so much about that no thing will stop my commitment to it?

In the chatter about the “problems in our industry”, I’m believing that there are none. If there are problems, they are with me, they are with you or they are with us. “The industry” doesn’t exist apart from those three realities.

Problems live in that cowardly place where I expect all return and no investment.

Where must I go all-in? Where must you?

“Our arts, our occupations, our marriages, our religion, we have not chosen, but society has chosen for us. We are parlour soldiers. We shun the rugged battle of fate, where strength is born.” – Emerson

Most every successful professional photographer I know is a part-timer.

… and if they aren’t, I say they might want to rethink their strategy.

Let me go one step further:
I don’t think the “part-timer” category is a meaningful distinction anymore. It feels more like the residue from a bygone era meant to cajole people into responsibilities they no longer need to keep.

We need a new way to understand the people (part-time or not) who are flourishing so more can find their way.

Mapping a path to success by logging more time doing the same old thing, however, is no longer helpful. To create something new requires at least as much attention as emulating what everyone else is doing. We need to either dump the pejorative label or embrace those who are doing it well.

Of course, the part-timer can come in many forms. Some of you have day jobs in other industries and care so much about your craft of choice that you wake up early and stay up late doing it. Others are committed to the industry but do multiple tasks within it. Regardless, very few are doing nothing but shooting.

It’s time we call part-timing what it is. Anything otherwise is out-of-line with our times and the nature of what we do as creative professionals. How often we click one particular tool (our camera) is no longer sufficient to define one’s commitment.

I wonder if a better category for pro’s would be to note who are creatively committed and who are not.

One thing we can all agree on, even if you disagree with my claim, is that committing to do “it” more creatively is required of all of us (regardless of what “it” is). If more of us did, I’m confident we’d get a more satisfying result relative to our efforts.

Let me explain…

The new-school creatives who do photography part-time aren’t lazy. Far from it! They also don’t get to give up their commitment to the craft of photography. If you want to join them, you will have a LOT of work to do. But, taking pictures turns out to take a relatively small percentage of their time.

Case in point: I did a little informal survey of some of the most successful studios in the US and discovered that the principal photographer was only behind the lens between 10-12 hours per week. The resourceful question then has to be what are these success stories doing with the rest of their week?

Consider the heroes in the field we admire: We know who they are because of their body of work, right? But that’s not all they do. So, what else are they up to? With rare exception, most diversify their offerings.

Witness the sea of successful photographers creating overtly outside their photo genre (commercial shooters doing fine art), creating with tools unrelated to the camera (i.e., writing, illustration, inventions, start-ups), not to mention those expanding into the educational field.

On close inspection, these contributions are just the beginning of how these stand outs spend their time.

Because the act of creating doesn’t scale, entrepreneurial creatives find ways to embed their creativity in products that scale on their behalf. It’s why biz partners like our labs (manufacturing facilities really) are so important to us. It’s also why writers, musicians and film makers leverage Amazon and iTunes and Netflix.

Photographers aren’t alone.

Notice any actors planning weddings? Any athletes you know become coaches? How about musicians selling Harajuku perfume or making surf movies?

Even if you don’t like their hybrid-creations, you at least have to acknowledge that what they’re coming up with helps each to stand out from their usual crowd.

When people feel threatened by the idea that the part-timer now rules the world, I interpret that they’ve unfortunately bought into the belief that their identity is been placed in the wrong spot. Identity was never meant to be centered what we do: no one gets to “be” a professional photographer. Those who claim it exclusively are selling themselves short.

We aren’t what we do.

A functional view of identity breaks down pretty quick. What we do is meant to be an expression of who we are, not the source of who we are. Identity is bigger than that.

That said, I do understand why the suggestion that we take part-time photography seriously will seem offensive to some. How can someone be a pro and only do it part-time? Plus, if I’m spending 60 hours a week on my photo business right now, how is that not a full-time gig?

What I’m noticing is too many in our industry are adopting full time responsibilities that are decided for them… in what Emerson would call their parlour. The rugged battle – where your true and unique strength can be discovered – needs some time to be developed too.

Wouldn’t it be more resourceful then to reallocate our investment of time to include creating outside of the norm? I dare you to give it at least a part-time effort.

“That which each can do best, none but his Maker can teach him. Where is the master who could have taught Shakespeare? Where is the master who could have instructed Franklin, or Washington, or Bacon, or Newton? . . . Shakespeare will never be made by the study of Shakespeare. Do that which is assigned you, and you cannot hope too much or dare too much.” – Emerson

Who do you listen to?

I was in a conversation with Tim Sanders recently who was warning me (and those listening in) to be very thoughtful about the socialstream I choose.

Like kids in the junior high school yard, I’m tempted to think I’m un-effected by those I let in my consciousness. But those voices – good and bad – do effect me & I’d be wise to be intentional with who I grant access.

That said, when it comes to creativity, there’s a deeper voice I can neglect even more that has even greater ramifications. It’s my genie.

That voice in my soul that I need a lot of quiet to hear from. The greeks actually called her genius. We all have one. Very few of us, however, are brave enough to do what’s required to woo her out into the light.

I get it. It’s scary.

One thing I’m clear on though is those who do dare, accomplish the remarkable.

Emerson was right, Shakespeare will never be made by the study of Shakespeare. Same thing with Jeremy & Altf & Parker & Marcus. These crazy people are listening to something internal even while they’re inspired by a world external. I’m tempted to call them geniuses. But they’re not. They’re just regular joes courageous enough to listen their genie inside and do something about it.

I caught a lot of flack for putting the phrase “Fast Track” in the titles of my last two books mainly because critics were concerned that I was suggesting I had some short cut solution to becoming a competent professional creative. There isn’t and I wasn’t.

If you want results – to hear from your genie – you need to work harder at listening than you knew was possible. It’s a daily engagement… a habit, a discipline. The fruit of which can take you on a crazy road & make you feel crazy. But if you really want to find the fastest track to your authentic creative self, I’m convinced that making some dates with your genie is where it begins.

PS… For more insight on nurturing your genius, check out Elizabeth Gilbert’s legendary TED Talk.