“Do what you love, the money will follow.”
Bullshit. It’s true only if what you love happens to be an activity that creates economic value that someone, somewhere will pay for.
Nowhere is this clearer than in the arts. Every year, thousands of people move home from LA, NY, Nashville, Paris, etc., their hopes and spirits crushed, because they couldn’t be “discovered” and make a steady living as an actor, rock star, dancer, model, etc. Not wanting to wait tables or answer phones as a temp for the rest of their lives, they give up and find something else that will pay the bills.
Being a creative artist is fundamentally narcissistic in the sense that you presume that what you create is worthy of others’ time, attention, and money. Yet we have access to more media, in all forms, than any civilization in the history of the world — vast quantities of it for free — so the audience is rightly selective. For example, as a playwright, choreographer, or songwriter, you are entitled to nothing. Rather, your audience that pays money for admission is entitled to entertainment: Compelling storytelling, humor, catharsis, whatever it might be.
Most original novels, screenplays, songs, bands, paintings are bad. A tiny fraction of the best-of-the-best are truly gifted, and a fraction of those get lucky enough (and/or work hard enough) to be discovered, recognized, and promoted commercially such that they can actually make a living at it. For the other 99.99%, it’s a hobby. The money will not follow.
