The Sad Truth About Photography (And Why You Shouldn’t Quit)” How to keep going when the likes stop and the self-doubt creeps in.

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The Sad Truth About Photography (And Why You Shouldn’t Quit)

At the start of your photography journey, everything is shiny and exciting—and also slightly terrifying.

You learn things like what the “exposure triangle” is, and that an “F-stop” isn’t a swear word, but something to do with light and blurry backgrounds.

Back then, my brain felt like it had been thrown in a blender. A very artsy, overexposed blender.

But eventually, it starts to click.

You begin posting your first images online. They might not be amazing, but you’re proud of them. Friends and family chime in with likes and clapping emojis. You eat up that attention like Pac-Man on power pellets.

And best of all? You start improving. Fast. Like, noticeably fast. Each photo shoot feels like a step forward. Your confidence grows, your editing gets sharper, and you start spotting light and composition like a ninja in the wild.

But then…

The sad truth hits.

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Why Most Beginner Photographers Quit

At some point, your rapid-fire progress slows down.

Those big leaps you were making? They shrink to tiny hops. Sometimes, you can’t even tell if you’re improving anymore. You stare at your photos and think, “Wait… have I peaked?”

The self-doubt creeps back in. Imposter syndrome shows up like that one pigeon who just knows when you’ve bought a sandwich.

Suddenly, everything feels harder. Less exciting. More like work. You wonder if you’re wasting your time.

And many people quit right there.

This isn’t unique to photography. It happens with any creative skill: fast growth, then plateau. Frustration. Boredom. Soul-searching. Maybe a small identity crisis on your ride into work.

But if you stick it out—if you keep showing up—those tiny improvements start stacking up again. Quietly. Subtly. Over months, possibly years.

And eventually, they become something meaningful. Something real.

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The First Truth: Nobody Cares About Your Photos (Except You)

Here’s another tough pill to swallow:

Most people don’t care about your photos.

Oof, I know. Stay with me.

You might spend an hour perfecting a composition, nailing the edit, posting it online… and it gets two likes. One of which is from your mum. Thank you mum.

Meanwhile, someone else posts a blurry snap of a pigeon on a bin and it gets 400 likes and a brand deal. (Okay, maybe not quite that bad. But you get the idea.)

It’s not that your work is bad. It’s just that your photos hold meaning to you—because of the moment, the effort, the story behind them.

To everyone else, it’s just another picture in an endless scroll.

And when that realisation hits during a low point—during the self-doubt and the plateau—it can feel soul-destroying. It can be enough to make people give up altogether.

A Quick Reality Check

Even full-time professional photographers—shooting with top-tier gear and banging out anywhere from 50,000 to 200,000 images a year—might only publish 5 to 12 of them. That’s it. Out of all that work, only a tiny handful make it to the portfolio, exhibition wall, or social feed.

Personally?

I aim for ten photos a year that I’m genuinely proud of.

No one else needs to like them. No algorithm approval required.

Just ten shots that I can look at and think: Yeah… that one still gives me something.

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The Second Truth: The Only Person Who Needs to Like Your Photos… Is You

So what do you do about it?

You embrace the second truth:

The only person who needs to like your work in order for you to grow—is you.

That’s it. So good it was worth repeating.

When you stop relying on external validation, and instead find purpose in the process, something changes. You start making work that feels good again. You shoot for yourself.

But to get there, you need to reconnect with your why.

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How to Reconnect With Your Creative Why

So how do you keep going when the algorithm ghosts you, your creativity feels flat, and that bloody pigeon gets more attention than your favourite photo?

Try this:

1. Shoot for yourself again.

Forget what’s trending. Ignore what everyone else is doing. Go out with no goal other than to enjoy the process. Photograph what you love—your morning coffee, the light in your hallway, your German Shepherds ridiculous sleeping position. This is your art.

2. Look back at your early photos.

Not to cringe (although… maybe a little), but to see how far you’ve come. What excited you then? What’s changed? You might find something worth revisiting.

3. Start a small personal project.

Pick a theme: “blue things,” “lonely benches,” “grumpy pigeons of the city.” Personal projects give you focus and remove the pressure of perfection.

4. Write about your photos.

Not for likes—just for you. A few lines about why you took the shot or how you felt can reconnect you with the emotion behind the image. Or have a photography midlife crisis and start a blog or a website.

5. Embrace constraints.

Limit yourself to one lens, one hour, one subject. Try to only use your phone to take pictures for a week. Boundaries force creativity. You’ll be surprised what you come up with when you have fewer choices.

6. Take breaks—without guilt.

Creativity isn’t a 24/7 tap. It’s more like a moody dog. It’ll come back when it’s ready. Don’t force it. Go read, walk, or eat biscuits. That counts too. Photography books can be an incredible source of inspiration.

7. Stop measuring your worth by numbers.

You are not a like count. You’re not your follower total. You are not an algorithm.

You are a photographer.

You are someone who sees the world differently.

And that matters.

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Final Thoughts

Photography isn’t always magical. Sometimes it’s frustrating. Sometimes it’s lonely. You wonder why you bother. Sometimes it feels like shouting into the void and hearing nothing back but a distant “coo” from that same bloody pigeon.

But the beauty lies in pushing through. In making work that matters to you. In remembering that this is your journey, and no one else gets to define its value.

So, if you’re feeling stuck or unseen—take a breath. Reconnect with your why. And keep going.

The photos that mean the most are the ones you took for yourself.