“Choose a job you love and you’ll never work a day in your life,” is a load of shit. It sounds great, and it seems to make sense, but as someone who’s had several jobs I wanted and very much loved, I can tell you that saying is not true, at least not in the literal sense.
That’s not to say some jobs aren’t better and more fulfilling than others. A job that makes the most of your aptitudes and skills, has a good work environment, and pays well will be much more enjoyable than one where you’re abused, overworked, and under appreciated. As an example, being an NFL quarterback is better than working in a coal mine, but if you think NFL quarterbacks don’t work, you should go workout with one, or just let a 340 lb. man tackle you sometime. No matter how much they love the game, it’s work, work, work.
I love to write, and so when I started in advertising, I wanted to be a copywriter. I was hired as an account executive, and not to work in the creative department or come up with copy ideas. Sure that I’d enjoy working as a copywriter more than I enjoyed working as an account executive, I built a spec portfolio on my own time, studied my craft, and learned what I could. Eventually, I got a new job at another ad agency working as a copywriter. And guess what? It was still work.
It was a different kind of work. I was using a set of skills I enjoyed using, and most days I enjoyed doing it. But, working as a copywriter was where I discovered the throne of agony, so named by Sally Hogshead, a former advertising executive. Agony is Step 3 of her 5 Stages of Your Creative Process. In this step, you suffer, you struggle, you doubt yourself, and you try and try and try to come up with an original, interesting, relevant idea. It’s the hardest part of the creative process, and she claims that “if you want an epiphany, you need to sit your butt in The Throne of Agony.”
This is all true. Every creative process has a struggle, and the only way to get through it is by putting ass to chair and working your way through it.
There I was, doing a job that I loved, and in some ways, it was harder than doing a job I didn’t care about. The stakes were higher; failing would mean I wasn’t as creative or as good a writer as I thought I was. And while doing account executive things like making media spreadsheets or filling out paperwork is boring, it’s not as agonizing as sitting in the throne of agony. And if sitting in that throne isn’t bad enough, I had to do it day in and day out, whether I felt up to it or not. And by the way, I still had a boss who got on my nerves, a sometimes grumpy creative partner, and a desk with no privacy.
But even with the “by the way” stuff removed, the throne of agony follows me to every writing project like it’s being pushed by an invisible anti-muse of a demon. Whether I’m writing a short story, a novel, or this very blog post, I feel an internal unease that is only satisfied by doing the work or doing something else, (i.e. procrastinating.) Some days are easier than others, and I occasionally slip into a zone where time and the throne of agony fade into the distance and the words come like water from a fire hydrant. But mostly, it’s work. Fulfilling, creative, exciting work, but still, it’s work.
I hope this doesn’t discourage you from doing something you love, but if it does, there are other options. Plenty of people work a job because it’s the best one they can find. Or maybe it’s the best one that’s available in their town. And some people want a job they can leave at work at the end of the day, leaving them with the mental energy to parent, work on side projects, or just simply unplug and play golf. For some, doing a job they love isn’t an option because it might not pay enough to put food on the table or provide health insurance for their family. There’s nothing intrinsically wrong with not loving your job, and sometimes it’s actually easier than making your passion into a career.
But the idea that doing a job you love will mean you never work a day in your life? Bullshit. If anything, you’ll work harder; you’ll care about it more, be more driven to succeed, and face more competition to get there. Nobody’s going on a reality TV show to get a job at McDonald’s, but tell people they might get to be a reality TV pop icon and they’ll line up to sleep in the streets for a week for their 30-second shot at fame.
Still, I hope you do find a job you love. I hope the work is fulfilling, rewarding, and challenging. And whatever your passions are, I hope you pursue them. But, loving to do something doesn’t mean it has to be your job.
I love to cook. I enjoy preparing food for myself, friends, and family. I enjoy the process, the result, and sharing something I made with people I care about. People sometimes say, “you should open a restaurant,” or “you should have been a chef.” My reply is always the same: “thank you,” because it was a compliment, and then, “but I don’t want to work in the restaurant industry.”
That’s because I’ve worked in restaurants and decided that I didn’t love cooking enough to sign up for the restaurant lifestyle. The hours are long, the work is physically demanding, you always work weekends, and you don’t get to spend much time with your family. Cooking professionally is a really fucking hard job, and I can cook for fun without having to deal with all the parts I don’t like.
Turning your passion into a job can suck the joy out of your passion. It’s tempting, especially if you believe the bullshit about doing a job you love. But before you do it, realize that instead of making your job better, you might just be making your passion worse.
That said, I hope you find a career that you’re passionate about. I hope you have a job that is fulfilling, challenging, and that you enjoy. Because if you choose a job you love, all the ancillary bullshit that comes with that job gets easier to tolerate. That’s the way writing is for me, and working as an advertising copywriter was a pretty good job. There were good days and bad days, great clients and terrible clients, but I mostly liked the people I worked with and loved the feeling I got when I wrote something good. And while that isn’t “not working a day in your life,” it’s a whole lot better than schlepping coal out of a hole in the ground.
I love you,
Dad
I originally planned to finish this series in twelve months, intending to write one entry a week for 52 weeks. But, other things came up and I didn’t have as much time as I thought I would. We moved, you started a new school, I had other projects, etc. But finally, I’m starting my last entry in September, nine months after I’d planned. Which is the perfect intro to this one.
Time is funny like that. It marches on like a metronome, indifferent to how much you wish it would slow down or speed up. It offers no do-overs, no matter how frivolously you spend it. And it gives zero fucks what you planned to accomplish in the time you had. Once that time is over, you’ll get no more. But, it also stretches out ahead of you into an unknown future, offering untold possibility and infinite choices.
Which is why I hope you both learn to make choices about how you spend your time and understand what those choices mean. Because while there’s never enough time for everything, there’s still enough time to do almost anything.