The Real Ups and Downs of Being a Photographer – And How to Make It

When I first started taking photos, it was purely for fun. I was about 14 years old when I got really into it. I’d go down to the beach with my high school friends when school got out, and we’d surf all afternoon. I’d have my camera with me, snapping random moments I thought were cool. Pictures of my friends walking down a sandy path with their surfboards, portraits at golden hour, and empty lineup shots. I took photos of anything that sparked joy.

There was such a sense of freedom in it. No business. No brand contracts. No stress about rent. Just a 14-year-old with a camera, chasing light and freezing memories. That version of photography—the one that gave me joy—feels hard to hold onto now that I do this professionally.

Photo taken in 2019 because starting my classes at high school. My first class was at 8 am, so I’d wake up early to shoot photos of the waves at sunrise. I enjoy this a lot.

The Pressure of Turning Passion Into a Paycheck

The hardest part of this journey has been trying to maintain that original love for photography while turning it into a career. It’s a delicate balance—navigating client expectations, relying on brands for income, and trying to keep your creative spirit intact.

When you're relying on photography to pay your bills, things change. There are deadlines. Mood boards. Feedback loops. Edits you wouldn’t normally make. You start curating your work not for yourself, but for approval. For a paycheck. And for me, that’s when things get tricky.

Honestly, some of the jobs I take suck the life out of my work. They don’t align with my vision, and it shows. I know not everyone feels this way. Some photographers seem to shoot what they love and still get paid for it. But that’s not always realistic—at least not right away. Most of us say yes to jobs because we have to, not because we want to.

And here’s the thing: all of my favorite work? The stuff I’m proudest of? I wasn’t paid for any of it. No invoice. No contract. Just me, my camera, and an idea I needed to get out.

This photo was taken after school during independent P.E. Our surf coach would take us surfing, I’d bring my camera and snap some photos in between surfs.

The Mental Tug-of-War

So how do you keep your work from being tainted by money? How do you make sure that creative spark doesn’t burn out? That’s the question I’m still trying to answer.

Another struggle is simply not having enough of the right work. I get told all the time, “Just say yes to everything. You never know what it could lead to.” But that advice can be dangerous. Saying yes to everything means you could end up doing work you hate—over and over again. Eventually, it chips away at your confidence. Your creativity. Your energy.

And then there's the question of pride. I’ve done jobs I’d never share. I’ve been embarrassed by some of the work I’ve had to do just to get by. That eats at me. Maybe it’s ego. Maybe it’s idealism. But it’s real.

Sometimes I wonder: Am I really my own boss? Or am I just an employee with a thousand different clients? It can feel like the freedom I dreamed of when I “went freelance” is just a different kind of cage.

Another wonderful morning before school started…

So... How Do You Make It?

Here’s what I’ve learned so far.

If you want to make money from your art, there will always be compromise. That’s part of the deal. But the trick is creating a system where your personal work and your paid work don’t compete—they support each other.

For me, it starts with making non-negotiable time for personal projects. Even just once a month. That’s where the joy lives. Those shoots bring me back to why I started. They refill the tank. And often, they end up being the most compelling part of my portfolio—the very thing that attracts the kinds of clients I want to work with.

You can’t wait for permission. You can’t wait for the “right” client. You have to create the work you want to be hired for. You have to show the world your vision. That’s the only way people start hiring you for your style, not just your skill.

Not every job will be inspiring. Some are just work. And that’s okay. I’ve started separating those in my head: some projects are purely transactional. I do them, I deliver them, I move on. Not everything has to be shared. Not everything has to live on your Instagram feed. It’s work. It’s funding the next personal shoot.

Independent P.E. pitstop for some snacks before going to surf and snap more photos of my friends.

Redefining Success

The biggest shift I’ve made is redefining what success looks like for me. It’s not just about full calendars or brand deals. It’s about creating enough freedom—financially, creatively, emotionally—to keep doing the work that fills me up.

Building a creative career isn’t about making every job perfect. It’s about building a life where the work you love still has space to exist. Where your art still belongs to you, no matter what.

So no, I don’t have it all figured out. I still say yes to gigs I wish I didn’t. I still feel stuck some days. But I’m learning. I’m learning how to protect that 14-year-old version of me—the one with a camera, running down to the beach, just doing it for the love.

And as long as I don’t lose that, I know I’m on the right path.