Time is at the core of everything, it’s pretty much all I think about. It’s become more of a focus as a challenge than money for me, and for creatives—which now is most of us—it’s the everything. The why, the wish, the answer to our problems

We all now do so much, that what time we have left, and the quality of that time, is so important to us. It’s what allows us to do the thing we want, and for many of us—creators, artists, music makers—it’s the time we rely on to relax, to feel purpose, and to feel like us and make sense of the world.

For me, my main things in life are balancing work, family and music. Family is easy, it’s what you do—it’s not really something you think overtly about for the first few years at least because it’s like survival. When I asked my mum for advice early on before my first kid, she simply said: “You don’t need to worry because you will make it work. That’s what we do. It’s not hard because it just is.” These days, I worry more about being present enough for my kids—and actually the thing that affects that the most is trying to stay in the game on social media. Something which I’m currently re-assessing, because they know when I’m only half there.

Work. How we earn, the stability, the necessity. For me, for many years this was music. And of course, the grass is always greener—so I remember the freedom: taking breaks when I wanted, days off when I needed to creatively recharge and get inspired. Of course, when it was good, it was this—but it was also being “on” 7 days a week, all year, all day. It had huge ups and huge downs, where the pressure to bridge a gap between publishing deals and production fees was immense. When you write a song you are proud of, but it becomes meaningless because it doesn’t fit with the artist’s current plan.

So, of course, the other side of that world is: it isn’t always going well. The outcome as a writer/producer is so often dictated by the mood and decisions of the artists, the top liners, and the label. You do the best you can—and for lots of my friends who are successful in that field, they have great lives. If you chain together a few runs in a row, you can make it work really well. You can live off a few releases a year that make the cut—and with a sprinkling of side projects you love, you can live a version of that dream.

As an artist, getting signed is also really hard—and maybe now harder than ever, as it’s not an answer to being successful. There are still heavy expectations on you to market and grow on socials yourself.

Work for me now is working as a lecturer alongside Sound of Fractures. It has brought me so much, in that I work with people I’m inspired by, and importantly, I get to talk about the thing I love and the work that I really love doing—which is make music, but also all these other things that build out from that. It’s still a proper job, with responsibility, a boss, and lots of work. But it’s as close to music as I can get, and I get to bring in what I’m doing on the ground into the classroom… adding another layer of meaning to my creative output.

That, yes, I still wish I had more time for. And I have had less free time to make music in the last year probably than any other point in the last 20 years of my life.

Ok I made it to the point finally. Our ‘free’ time.

As a person who defines themselves as creative, I’m always working towards a perfect version of free time. For me, it’s time to do music. But not just time—perfect time. When I feel inspired, when I’m not worrying about work, or jobs that need doing in the house, no Amazon deliveries at the door… oh, and without the neighbours doing building works, or playing music, or the park keepers mowing the grass… or a helicopter overhead.

The perfect moment is rare. But I don’t rely on music to be whole me anymore, and I always have more time. Learning to give yourself more time—to remove the limits and goals that you create based on others’ lives—is something I’m learning to shake.

I have other sources of income. I have other things that make me feel whole. Other things that reset me. And that, weirdly, is because I had to make time for them too.

When all I lived for was making music, I never travelled. I had never had a proper relationship, even. Music consumed me, and I thought that was the dream. But it was the only thing that nourished me—and now I believe there are healthier ways to live.

So, yes, the grass is always greener and I miss that world where all I had to do was be creative. But I can also see it was a gift and a curse. Now I get to live in different ways. I get to impact students and my family in positive ways, and not just rely on social media and Spotify to impact people in a way that gives me a sense of purpose. I can create for me, and not to make my rent check and service those that might pay me.

I’m writing this today because there is never enough time—and I still wish I had more. I wish I could spend my time working full-time on my current project. I’m still envious of those who get to work and be creators full-time. But I don’t have a house to live in for free (yes, I did move out). I have others to provide for, and people to answer to.

Which is why I find myself revisiting this subject at least once a year—because there is often (not always) a silver lining. And to make the most of your time, you have to find that, and acknowledge it. Use it as a superpower. It will help you get more from your time, feel nourished by it, and love the things you’ve been programmed to hate about your life.

Let your job be something that enables your creative freedom. It takes up your time—but it also gives you time. It gives you personal connections. It gives you staying power. And if you are lucky, it also gives you purpose.

We may be balancing a million things, but we are still in the game. And actually, going full-time into music? I would bet that for a percentage of us, that’s the quickest way to fall out of love with the process.