There is a distinct difference between simply completing a task and being truly committed to it. One is assigned to you; the other is chosen. An office job is often driven by external motivation—salary, stability, obligation. Creative work, on the other hand, is fueled by something internal.
Motivation sits at the center of this difference. In a traditional job, money becomes the primary motivator. In creative pursuits, motivation comes from love for the process. Neither path is easy. Working solely for money can eventually lead to burnout, while following passion without immediate rewards demands patience and resilience.
I live in both worlds. My professional work involves online cataloguing. Outside of that, I write, make music, and create gaming content. I do this alongside family responsibilities, personal commitments, and daily life. Creating time for these pursuits isn’t optional—it’s intentional. Especially because, in my early years, I wasn’t allowed the freedom to explore them.
There are moments when you sit in front of your PC knowing exactly what needs to be done and how to do it—yet nothing moves. Work spills into personal life; personal struggles bleed into work. Even with clarity, momentum can disappear.
Anyone who truly pursues a passion understands this truth: motivation comes and goes. It isn’t constant like daylight. It’s obscured by clouds, setbacks, and long stretches of doubt. The purpose, however, isn’t lost—it’s only temporarily buried.
Desire is the strongest motivator—but only when purpose is clear. If you haven’t spent enough time understanding why you’re doing something, interest fades and projects get abandoned. That’s a dangerous place to be.
When I started my YouTube gaming channel, I had no strategy—just excitement. Seven years later, with 624 subscribers, I’ve had to seriously reflect on direction and intent. Seven years is a long time, and without clarity, the drain is real. Motivation fades not because effort is lacking, but because purpose isn’t defined.
People start businesses to turn dreams into reality. But dreams need direction—and a path to reach them. Coaches may offer formulas, but eventually, you realize something important: no one can decide your journey for you.
In business, capital, planning, rejection, and uncertainty are unavoidable. Start-ups are built through pitches, failures, meetings, hope, and disappointment. The desire to continue must outweigh the temptation to quit when losses appear. Passion must outlast pain.
When I began making music, my obsession was sounding like someone else. Progressive house, ambient, and experimental styles influenced me heavily. Then I came across a simple idea: make music for yourself. If you love it, others might too.
Early on, I relied heavily on tutorials—learning while creating. On days when I didn’t feel like producing, I watched videos, explored my DAW, or experimented without pressure.
Three years since releasing music publicly, nothing has gone viral. I don’t have a massive audience or loyal fanbase. Yet I continue—because I love the process. I write because I love writing. I game because I love gaming. These three forms of expression define who I am, even as I struggle to balance time, consistency, and energy.
Creativity is how I understand myself.
If there’s one practical habit I recommend, it’s this: maintain a simple goal journal. Write down what you want to achieve at the start of the year. Define short-term and long-term goals. Review them weekly or monthly—whatever suits you. Writing goals without reviewing them is meaningless.
Creativity is work. Real work. You continue even when results don’t match expectations. Most people secretly expect success—viral content, massive audiences, recognition—after publishing their first song, video, or book.
The truth is uncomfortable: not everyone finds success quickly. And unless you continue, you’ll never know if you could have.
In music, no producer truly knows which track will become a hit. That’s why they keep producing. Writers keep writing. Bloggers keep posting. Gamers keep playing.
Hard work is easy to admire and difficult to sustain. The real demotivator isn’t circumstance—it’s unrealistic expectations. When starting anything, keep expectations low and commitment high.
This is where most people quit. They want rewards without time, effort, or patience. Progress is slow, invisible, and often unrewarded in the beginning.
Ask yourself honestly: if you received zero views, readers, or listeners—would you still continue?
My gaming channel, GamerPhoenyx, has grown slowly—624 subscribers in seven years. Sometimes that stagnation hurts. Still, I keep creating. Recently, I returned to making how-to videos—the reason I started in the first place.
Music followed a similar path. Five years of practice before releasing anything. Three years later, my audience is small—not because the music is bad, but because learning to make good music without formal training takes time.
Earlier, I created music instinctively—mixing whatever worked. Now, I focus on storytelling through sound. I imagine how a listener might feel. That shift takes patience. Some learn fast. Some slow. Some are naturally gifted.
Writing has been with me since school. I copied what I admired, without intent to publish. Later, studies and work drowned that passion. During my call centre days, a friend encouraged me to write a book. That’s where my journey began—directionless, uncertain, unfinished.
Only now have I committed to writing and blogging consistently.
What keeps me going? I don’t fully know. I simply continue doing what I love. For the love of the art.
You don’t have to prove anything to anyone else. Your real battle is internal—against doubt, negativity, and self-sabotage. You’re competing with yourself, not others.
You won’t be on fire every day. And that’s okay. Love the art—but don’t confuse love with obsession.
Creation—whether through music, writing, art, or any form—allows you to build your own world. Returning to it repeatedly shows commitment. What matters is how often you return, and why.
Ask yourself:
Think of it like walking through a tunnel. The light at the end exists—but you only see it if you keep walking. Focus on the light, not the darkness around you. Until you reach it, you’ll never know what waits beyond.
Keep walking. Enjoy the journey.
All the best.