They say do what you love and the money will come.
What they don’t say is how long you’ll go hungry while waiting.
What they don’t say is that passion alone doesn’t pay Electrical bills (NEPA).
I’m a photographer. That’s my identity. That’s my grind. That’s what I write in bios and whisper like a prayer when people ask, “So, what do you do?”
But recently, the hustle has started to feel like a one-sided conversation with me screaming into the void and getting silence in return. I post. I promote. I shoot. I edit. I create reels. I run ads. The bookings barely drip in. Some months, it is just vibes and invoices.
I started questioning everything. Maybe my art isn’t good enough. Maybe I’m just not built for business. Or maybe just maybe I’m invisible.
The Morning I Went Out With Hope
On a humid Tuesday morning, I ironed my cleanest shirt. Not the flashiest but it didn’t scream “struggling creative.”
My camera was packed. My pitch was rehearsed.
I walked out my door with determination in my chest and fire in my belly. “Today, I market myself to fashion designers directly.”
I started with the biggest store on the block.
“Hi, I’m a fashion photographer. I’d love to shoot for your next drop. We could do something sharp, bold, with edge. I’m offering discounts to—”
The lady cut me off mid-pitch.
“Your IG doesn’t even have models wearing high-end pieces. I need someone who knows editorial fashion. Sorry.”
Okay. Fair enough. Onto the next.
The next designer barely looked up from her sewing machine.
I stood there awkwardly, waiting. When she finally glanced at me, she said,
“You photographers only snap and collect money. You people don’t bring sales. Leave jare.”
I smiled a fake smile and nodded. But inside I felt like disappearing.
Third try. Last shot of the day. I approached a stylist I’d followed online. She was known for edgy looks and vibey shoots. She glanced at my card and said,
“Oh. You’re not one of those Lagos creatives who promise and vanish right? I’ve had enough stress. We don’t need photographers right now.”
No thank you. No “come back later.” Just rejection on a hot plate.
By the time I left that area, I was sweating from more than a lot from both heat and humiliation. My confidence felt bruised. All I got from my networking tour was dust, disappointment, and metaphorical insults smeared right across my spirit.
Alone With My Doubts
That night, I couldn’t have my eyes shut to say go to bed and have a night sleep. The fan above my head and winds from the outside coming from the broken window groaned like it shared my pain. My camera bag sat untouched in the corner looking more like a burden than a blessing.
I started spiraling.
Maybe I’m not cut out for this.
Maybe I’m not made to seal deals or own a business or even get paid for what I love.
I remembered something wild I told myself weeks ago.
Maybe I should try scriptwriting. Maybe even directing films.
After all, I’ve always imagined scenes in my head. I already write captions that tell stories. I see angles before I shoot. I think in frames.
But a louder voice inside my head responded
“You can’t even land one stupid gig. Now you want to direct a whole movie. Bros, be serious.”
It stung.
That voice knew where to hit.
Because if not photography, then what
And if not now, then when
Still I Showed Up
Despite everything, I opened my notes app.
Just a sentence. One line turned into two. I poured my frustration into words. And somehow, that gave me breath.
I remembered how writing felt like home. Like control. Like freedom when everything else felt like a cage.
And so I wrote.
Not because anyone would pay me for it. Not because I had a plan. But because in that moment, it was the only thing that didn’t reject me.
The Joke That Became a Doorway
If you had told me last year that I’d be writing stories for a prompt community, stories about my real life with dialogue and conflict, I would have laughed and said
“Yeah right. When pigs fly.”
But here I am.
And not just writing for myself. I’m pushing myself to build something. I recently started a 30-day Hive challenge to promote creativity and push awareness for the platform.
Today is just Day 2 and I already know I may not complete all 30. Life is messy. Energy runs low. Consistency is hard.
But it’s called a challenge for a reason. So I will try. Even if I cant at least finish, at least I’ll go down creating some days because i know I'm not perfect and its the first time I'm doing this.
Because I know and lived what it feels like to wait for someone permission. To wait for clients. For money. For validation. For opportunity.
And I’m done waiting.
So Here’s What I Know Now
I’m not a loser. I’m not a failure.
I’m just a creative in the storm before his season.
And if this storm teaches me to build boats stories scripts scenes then maybe that’s the whole point.
Because truth is pigs don’t need wings.
They just need someone who’s had enough of waiting.
And today that someone is me.