When I lost my web dev job last summer, I went through a complete spiral. What should have felt like “Awesome, now I get to spend all my days on music!” didn’t feel like that at all. Instead, it meant “Nice, I’m now right back to having to say yes to every project and sell my creative energy away.”
All my previous attempts at “making it as a musician” had left me dry and void; for years, I’d been stuck in this cycle of creative burnout.
I felt like I was, yet again, heading straight into burnout.
Why am I still not “feeling successful”?
I’m one of the lucky ones who I actually get to make a living from music, at least technically. It sounds great from the outside, but the reality from the inside was that I was pouring all my creativity into client work, leaving nothing for my own creative projects.
Don’t get me wrong - I LOVE what I do!. I get to record vocals, produce tracks, play in weddings & events and work on incredible projects with amazing artists and people. I consider myself extremely lucky and grateful that I even get those opportunities.
However, I still don’t really feel “successful” as an artist.
The hard reality is, when the work day was over, I stared at my own unfinished projects and felt empty.
Saying yes to every project was hurting both me and how I was showing up for my clients, my band, and my audience.
I decided I was done settling for less.
In January, I looked at my life really hard. I had been unsuccessful trying to look for dev work in an economy that’s crashing down, and I decided I was done with that, but I was also done bending backwards and doing what other people wanted and expected of me.
I shifted my mindset to: “Whatever happens, I’ll just figure it out.”
I was done settling for less.
How I became a better collaborator
When I was working as a dev, I had more time for myself, more energy, and I was more creative. I could select the projects I actually wanted to work on. Having clear work boundaries made it better for my mental health and for my art.
That realization helped me shift my perspective and has improved my relationship with making art and music in my career. I decided to treat my music business with the same clear boundaries I had when I was working as a dev.
Somehow, that’s something I never felt entitled to in my music career.
I’m not perfect with it, but here’s how my choices look different now:
- I still do client work, but I’m way more selective about projects I choose to work on
- I set more realistic expectations & timelines
- I’m more mindful of my rates so I can give my best to each project
- I discuss distribution with clients upfront so I know what to expect
- Not everything needs an immediate reply; protecting my energy means better work for clients
- I make sure to reserve time for other creative hobbies outside of work
- I work with people whose vision I genuinely connect with
- When possible, I work directly with clients in live calls rather than just exchanging files - the personal connection makes the experience better for everyone
- I’m developing products like sample packs that help musicians at scale, which gives me more space for personal projects AND lets me be more present with individual clients
The answer isn’t black and white; even when I work with clients, I need to keep some creative energy for myself. I’m genuinely excited to help others bring their visions to life, but I also need time and space for my own artistic growth.
What’s interesting is that these boundaries have actually made me a better collaborator. When I’m not constantly drained, I can show up fully for the projects I do take on.
If you make art as your career, you need to protect your energy
Here’s what I’ve learned: You can make art your career, but you have to be smart about it.
The problem isn’t clients or client work - I genuinely love collaborating with creative people. The problem was when I didn’t protect my creative energy and felt I had to say yes to everything. That scarcity mindset (“what if no client shows up this month?”) made me a worse collaborator because I was always drained.
Nothing in this world is worth giving up my joy, my sense of self-worth, my creative spirit. I sell my creativity, but I don’t sell my soul.
At the end of the day, what’s the point of “making it” if you lose yourself in the process?
