Embracing Dilettante Status

“Amateur” means “to love,” and “dilettante” means “to find delight in.” And yet, both of these words have developed negative connotations. “Amateurish” is an epithet that puts one’s efforts beneath the notice of others. “Dilettante” brings to mind someone who’s unserious and idle, perhaps even someone who feels superior to others while lacking credentials.

I’ve been an amateur all my life — even at the things I’m fairly good at. I hold few professional certifications, have no formal training in most of the fields that interest me. Since my youth I’ve been interested in everything. I just had to tone it down to something manageable. I don’t believe I was ever destined to be a professional at anything, if indeed the word “professional” is the antonym for “amateur.” I’ve known professionals who are just barely qualified to be called a member of their profession, despite having all the credentials needed. The piece of paper is not always an indicator of skill.

One of my problems that’s plagued me for years is my lack of interest in any particular field. I thought that perhaps someone just needed to experience many things, and then with age and confidence would come clarity of purpose. Boy, was I wrong! The longer I stuck with something, even something I felt passionate about, the more I would become bored. I would move onto something else. In my professional life I have been many things. The position I hold now is nearly the opposite of what I once imagined for myself as a youth. The pay is good, but the work is…. Well, as I said, the pay is good.

It’s not boring — it’s…

The funny thing is, when I revisited things that I had gotten bored of, I found renewed interest. Passion, even. Eventually, I would get bored again. But it took me a long time to realize something that I read in Refuse to Choose by Barbara Sher: “Why does a honeybee leave a flower? Because what it was looking for isn’t there anymore.” Whatever drives me to pursue creativity in a particular direction finds itself satisfied, and then moves on. At some point, I come back and the experiences I’ve gained in the interim then bring a fresh angle, or new techniques that I didn’t know the last time.

Experience is a teacher

You must do.

You can learn a lot by reading or watching others do things. But that’s only planning — not execution. The real test of what you have learned will come when you put your hand to the work. You can read novels to learn the craft of writing, but you cannot become a novelist only by reading novels. You must write a novel. But it’s easy to get stuck in a mindset of “learning by not doing” and convince yourself that you’re researching or doing your art, when you’re really just farting around on YouTube.

You must expend/lose something

I tend to hoard materials. I also tend to be thrifty with them. Neither thing is bad, exactly, but both together will hinder your progress. Creativity comes at a cost. Even if all you do is type things into a digital file, you expend mental and emotional energy. Your thoughts and ideas leave you and become a part of your creation, now frozen in the state in which you left it. They have left your consciousness to become something else.

And then you must put it out into the world. That’s when you really lose what you’ve made. Once it is in the world, your work is not only unchangeable, but your work (and you) can be criticized. It is a leap of faith to expose your work to the world.

Embrace your amateurishness

Your perspective is just as valid as someone else’s. Yes, your creation may not be up to the same standard as someone you admire in the same field. Maybe it doesn’t even compare to the work of someone that you consider to be a peer. That doesn’t invalidate what you have to say with your art. Let it be what it is. Perhaps it spurs you to improve on the original. Perhaps it’s a stepping stone on a path that veers in a direction you can’t yet predict. Either way, it is your creation, your voice. It is your unique way of seeing the world, and nothing and no one can deny that.

Be brave today. Be an amateur. Love something enough to put it out into the world. Be a dilettante. Find delight in something and let it shape your art. Find joy in learning, exploring, and creating — not for recognition, but because you love it.

Make art on your terms. You don’t need permission. You don’t need perfection.