Hobbies for The Sake of Joy

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Today's post is brought to you by this tweet from one of my favorite authors:

https://twitter.com/deannaraybourn/status/1615020319026319360

This isn't the first time I've seen this bit of advice go around the internet, but it is the first time it has inspired me to write a post. That may have to do with my newest (going strong for over a year now, so "new" isn't exactly accurate) obsession for crochet, and how I've found myself eager to protect this hobby from the temptation or the social pressure to figure out how to turn it into a side-hustle for money.

Exactly!

I feel like I've talked about this offhandedly or abstractly in past posts, but today I wanted to talk about 

My small collection of Chef's Coats from a past life

it more directly, starting with my passion for cooking as a young person. I came from a line of talented home-cooks/bakers. The women in my family were skilled in the kitchen, which imparted in me a great love of food. When I started attending middle-school and got home on the bus early in the afternoon, my Dad suggested I cook dinner, daily, for the family, since I had the time. Some kids might've hated that chore, but I was excited for the opportunity. I loved cooking!.

Eventually my love of home cooking inspired me to be a chef. So, I threw myself into pursuing that goal. I thought about attending culinary school , but I ultimately compromised with my more practical and life-experienced father and pursued a B.S. in Food Service Management. I worked in almost every aspect of food service at some point--though my favorite place was always in the kitchen--for over 15 years.

There came a point, however, when the practicalities of adult life made a foodservice career less desirable. The unsteady pay, the irregular hours, the time away from my family, the physical demands. Most of all the burn out. What had been a hobby full of joy became decidedly less so when I was subject to the demands of both the customer, superior management, and the bottom line. Making a new hors-d'œuvre was fun the first two or three times, but after the hundredth or thousandth time, I was sick of it. It was no longer fun, but a tedious chore. When keeping the lights on and a roof over my head depended on making money from something I used to do just for fun, I found myself resenting it. That was no way to live.

When I finally quit cooking professionally, I looked forward to regaining my joy of home-cooking that I knew would come from doing it only to please myself or my loved ones. Food is still one of my loudest love languages.

While I have gone on to find a career I enjoy doing and that I don't resent (probably because it was never a beloved hobby), I still made the mistake of monetizing hobbies a few other times before I learned my lesson (I hope). It's a little hard to admit, but that's basically what has happened with my writing career, particularly when it came to *publishing*. I've loved writing ever since I was a kid, but I didn't make a serious thing of it until about 10 years ago. Until then, I had written solely for my own pleasure. Once I started publishing short stories, and then my first novel in 2015, I threw myself into the hustle. And for a while it was fun. Now... not so much. I'm definitely experiencing burn out, and when I think of writing another book, I feel a little dread at the thought of what comes after that: the querying (IF I decide to go that route. Or maybe I'll just stick my finger in a light socket for a good time instead), the editing, the begging for reviews, the ads, the promotions, the shilling on social media...

Midnight Burning (2015) was my first published novel

I think there will be a day down the road where I can get back to writing for the joy of it again, but I'm not there yet.

So, as you may know, I've been putting a lot of my creative energy into crochet, lately. Or "yarnin'" as my husband calls it. So far I've been quite satisfied with making things that I want and then foisting them onto my friends, who have been nice enough to at least pretend they are happy to receive my yarn offerings. Once in while I catch myself thinking about creating an Etsy store or an Instagram account to promote my stuff. 

A pair of reindeer I made and gave away as Christmas gifts this year.

Then a very loud voice in my head will say, "NO! Haven't you learned your lesson yet?"(Besides the practical fact that it would be impossible to monetarily recoup, in dollars-per-hour, the amount of time it takes me to make something.) So, for now, I'll protect the joy of my newest hobby. I'll make what I want, when I want, and continue foisting it on friends and family. Until they cry for mercy, that is.