Motherhood and the rite of passage into my thirties have brought many clichés into my life, but the biggest one has been experimental hobbying. I know a lot of you already know what I mean and have followed a similar path due to a similar turning point. There comes a day when you’re talking to a new colleague or a new friend and they ask one of the hardest questions you’ve had to answer in a while: “What do you do for fun?”
Motherhood has that knack for making it feel as if you’ve lost your very essence and it’s been sucked into your children. It sounds terrible, but I swear it’s not to be negative—that’s just how it goes. You have to give so much to your family that sometimes you’re left behind with the core of who you used to be. There is a lot of trial and error involved to find yourself again.
The same can be said about entering your thirties and separating yourself from your childhood, schooling, first job, and so on. You’re no longer simply planning or preparing for your future, but you’re now embarking on that path. You can become so singularly focused on that journey, which can result in losing pieces of yourself along the way.
Whatever the origin story may be, we reach a point where we start to dabble in different interests to see what sparks joy and makes us feel like ourselves again.
Something that defines us more than our career or children.
I tried it all. Crocheting, drawing, yoga, tennis, reading, running, and writing. I don’t think I planned to play the numbers game, but maybe that was subconsciously my plan. I should’ve realized that all these hobbies wouldn’t stick, however I was on a mission to find some sort of stimulation that was rewarding yet challenging. Freeing yet thrilling. I was doing a pretty good job for a while until I started to view hobbies as a financial opportunity.
What if I could sell my art designs on t-shirts?
What if I published a book for extra income?
Once I started to see the potential financial gain behind a hobby, it quickly lost its joy and became a chore, which was precisely what I was seeking to avoid. My hobbies were losing their initial allure as a guilty pleasure for my benefit and instead becoming a means towards an end.
While these hobbies can become careers, I was getting waaaay ahead of myself and even over-confident, I admit. I was thinking about the destination and ignoring the ride. And I desperately needed to enjoy the ride.
While many of my hobbies petered off, as expected, writing was one that avoided the chopping block. But it’s been a continual process of remembering its purpose and why I am doing it in the first place—for myself.
I think that’s the key to truly enjoying your craft and sustaining it long-term. It would be amazing to become an overnight sensation, turn my novel into a hit Netflix series, quit my day job (sorry team), and move to a coastal town that’s full of writing inspiration. But we all know that’s not realistic.
I want to write for myself because it’s liberating and I take pleasure in the process. Thinking through the plot with its twists and turns, developing my characters and how their backstories impact their transformations, and weaving my own trauma and pain into the story is extremely cathartic. Seeing your main character go through the same struggles you did, albeit in a fictitious fantasy setting, has been strangely comforting to me.
So I will always treat writing as a hobby because that means I am doing it primarily for myself.
Just like artists buy paints, runners invest in shoes, and yogis go on retreats, I believe writers should invest in their craft as well. Buy supple leather notebooks for jotting down new ideas as they come. Get a Kindle to read other writers’ works and easily save excerpts that resonate with you. Pay for captivating cover art when it’s time to publish your book.
I see a lot of posts about publishing with as little investment as possible going towards your first book. But when you’ve invested so much time and effort into that milestone, why not reward yourself? Sport enthusiasts are quick to reward themselves with nice gear after they’ve hit a benchmark or goal, so why can’t us writers do the same?
After a pair of running shoes are worn down, getting a new pair will naturally make your races better, but you can also get that specific pair of shoes because they are neon pink and make you smile every time you put them on. Having nice cover art can help with the allure of your book to new readers, but that doesn’t have to be why you’re doing it. Just like we don’t justify all purchases made for hobbies as a revenue driver, the same goes for writing.
We do it because we want to. And that’s enough of a reason.
So while I have been writing my whole life—whether it’s journaling, school essays, or marketing collateral for work—I am finally declaring it a hobby. And that means I am doing it for my benefit even though it may have some other benefits along the way.
