Behind the lens: the truth about being a photographer

To many, being a photographer sounds like a dream job.

"You're so lucky to do what you love!" is a phrase I hear often.

And yes, I am grateful but there's so much more behind the scenes than most people imagine.

Photography isn’t just a fun hobby that pays: it’s a demanding, full-fledged profession.

Everyone has their own idea of what a photographer does. Some think we’re privileged, lazy, or even dishonest to charge over €1000 for a wedding.

Social media doesn’t help:

it paints a glamorous picture of our work, but the reality is often far less shiny.

While I often share the technical side of my job, gear, editing software, and hours of fine-tuning every image today, I want to take you backstage, where the lights are dimmer and the stories are real.

Photography requires surprising physical stamina.

Our gear is heavy: cameras, lenses, batteries, and more  and we carry it all, on our feet, often for 10 to 15 hours straight.

Once you're past 40, your body reminds you just how tough that is.

Chronic shoulder pain, hand strain from constant shooting, and back issues are common.

I’ve had calcific tendinitis in my left shoulder for over six years.

My physiotherapist’s advice?

Change careers!

Instead, I schedule osteopathy sessions after every major event, and treat myself to massages when I can.

These aren’t just beautiful moments captured: they’re also long, exhausting days. After a wedding, I'd trade anything for a new pair of feet.

Over time, I’ve made adjustments.

For example, I no longer offer newborn posing sessions, which are physically demanding.

Instead, I focus on lifestyle newborn photography more natural, more aligned with my style, and kinder to my body.

And when clients want traditional newborn portraits, I happily refer them to trusted specialists.

It’s a compromise that lets me protect my health while continuing to deliver meaningful work.

Beyond the physical, there’s the emotional load.

This year, I finally invested in a rolling suitcase to ease the strain but what about the pressure we carry inside?

Our creativity thrives on inner peace, but weddings can be pressure cookers.

Sometimes, sweet brides morph into terrifying dragons on the big day (true story!).

Weddings are emotional, expensive, and stressful.

Everyone wants perfection.

I understand: I’ve been a bride too.

But even under pressure, respect for your team matters.

I meet with couples at least three times before the wedding, offering real support.

And 95% of them appreciate it deeply sending thank-you notes, paying early, making heartfelt speeches to acknowledge my role. 

But then there’s the other 5%.

No thanks.

No smile.

No acknowledgment, even when I stay overtime for free. Worse, a spoiled attitude that lasts the whole day.

Some brides lash out if something goes wrong, even if it has nothing to do with me, like a missing bouquet or a broken projector.

I end up being the emotional punching bag, simply because I’m there.

It’s frustrating. It’s exhausting.

And yet, they’ll still expect flawless results.

This is the hidden psychological weight we carry as photographers. Smiling, soothing, absorbing stress, all while capturing magic.

There are also the endless drives home whether the day went smoothly or not. Imagine leaving a wedding, completely exhausted, and still having an hour-long drive ahead of you. It’s one in the morning. Your body is begging for rest, but your eyes must stay open.

These moments are often solitary and grueling, but they’re part of the job.

You can’t afford to doze off. Night driving brings its own set of risks particularly in the countryside. 

Where I live, in the Gulf of Saint-Tropez, we must be alert for wild boars crossing the road.

Collisions with them can be devastating, both for the animal and the car.

And then, there are drunk drivers, unpredictable, reckless, and dangerously fast.

Being local, I know every back road and shortcut to avoid traffic, but even with all my experience, I always plan plenty of time for travel to ensure I’m punctual.

Parking, especially in Saint-Tropez, is a challenge in itself. 

Most lots are full, especially in summer. Thankfully, I’m lucky to have family in town who let me use their parking spot when needed.

Then come market days… which, ironically, often fall on the same day as weddings.

A simple 30-minute drive can suddenly stretch into a 1- to 2-hour ordeal.

I constantly navigate these obstacles, even when all I want is to get home, take off my shoes, and slip into the shower. I keep my speed low, no matter how strong the temptation to rush.

Fatigue is a constant presence, but vigilance is non-negotiable.

I never drink alcohol, so that’s one less worry, and I’m careful not to overeat, to keep my energy steady throughout the day.

These journeys, though tiring and expensive, are part of the profession. They require time, focus, and resilience an invisible effort my clients rarely see, but one that’s essential to delivering my best and making it home safely.

Every photo session comes with its own share of surprises.

Weather conditions can shift suddenly, and as a photographer, you need to be creative and adaptable to get the best possible results no matter what.

French clients, for instance, tend to cancel at the slightest breeze or a passing cloud.

In contrast, my international clients usually choose to go ahead understanding that a moody sky diffuses light beautifully, often resulting in stunning images.

Beyond weather, there are other, more human, challenges. 

Like arriving at a client’s home and waiting 15 minutes outside in the August heat because they’re “not ready.” Or walking into a space that’s completely cluttered or lacks natural light which is tricky for me, since I work exclusively with available, natural light.

Sometimes the lack of preparation can be frustrating.

I remember one session where I had only spoken with one family member beforehand.

When I arrived, I was greeted by the grandmother (a true “Tatie Danielle”) who turned out to be less than welcoming.

Assuming I didn’t understand Italian, she spent the entire session making rude comments about me and my work.

What she didn’t know?

I speak Italian and I understood every word.

These kinds of situations, though exhausting, are part of the job.

They require patience, self-control, and an unwavering level of professionalism even when the environment isn’t ideal.

Ah, events… Each wedding or celebration is a whirlwind of emotions and encounters.

But there are always a few guests who seem to believe I’m their personal servant as if we were in some kind of modern-day Downton Abbey.

These charming souls will ask for special photos or personal adjustments as if I were there exclusively for them. With a polite smile, I remind them that I’ve been hired by the couple (not by individual guests) but sometimes, it takes a firmer boundary.

And then there are the “Uncle Photographers.” You know the type. 

Passionate amateurs who genuinely think they could do a better job than I do. Armed with their brand-new gear, they step right into my frame, oblivious to the fact that they’re interfering with my professional space and with the results I’m being paid to deliver.

I’ve already talked about this in a previous blog post, so I won’t go on forever here… but just know that pretending to find it “cool” especially when it’s the fiftieth time that season I hear someone talk lenses, settings, and gear , takes a lot of patience.

And of course, there’s always that one bachelor.

Sometimes, there’s a small group of them. They seem to think I’m here looking for love.

With stories, flirty smiles, and awkward lines, they attempt to charm their way into a conversation (and who knows what else).

Once again, I have to remain composed, polite, and professional, without showing how heavy it all feels. Because keeping your cool, no matter what’s thrown your way, is just another part of the job.

Now picture yourself in the middle of the dance floor.

The air thick with sweat, guests spinning wildly around you... you’ve got the image?

Every step is a gamble for your already aching feet, crushed for the fiftieth time by a stiletto or an enthusiastic dancer.

Then comes the climax: when that guest hears their song  and barrels onto the dance floor, splashing the contents of their drink in every direction, bumping right into you.

And you?

You smile and cheer as if "Despacito" or "Marry You" were the greatest musical masterpieces of the century (even though you hear them every weekend ) all while Céline Dion belts through the speakers and you pretend to love it.

You learn to anticipate the imminent "champagne shower" to protect your gear ... just as you learn to negotiate gently with the DJ to please avoid the dreaded green disco dots that ruin first dance photos.

How many are juggling photography with a full-time job? Too many.

How many offer their work in exchange for fleeting fame? Too many.

But how many actually make a living from photography? Far too few.

Last night, while covering an event, a man approached me on the beach.

A seasonal worker in the region, he wanted to pitch drone services to my client.

The client refused: firmly. He hires me every year to cover this event, and he sees these unlicensed, opportunistic offers as damaging to the profession.

It may sound harsh, but this client, an experienced businessman, understands how these practices threaten the future of our industry.

Photography fascinates people. Many dream of a career shift, imagining wedding photography as a few weekends of big paydays. But reality is very different.

It involves relentless marketing to find the right clients, full project management from A to Z, heavy financial investment in equipment, software, computers, travel  and above all, human investment: time spent preparing, shooting, editing, and delivering.

You don’t “become” a photographer overnight. And it’s not just a weekend gig.

While some may enjoy it as a hobby, nothing replaces the talent and skill of a true professional to elevate your story.

In short: there’s no magic.

Just a lot of work. Many are drawn by the dream, but few stay long enough to turn it into a reality.

And as for me , it’s your trust, your smiles, and your stories that have given meaning to this job for all these years.

Thank you for seeing the value in what I do.