But there's something else in that mental state we call "commitment". I'll call it "service". Do you seriously want and intend to be of service to others, the potential 'customers' or 'consumers' of your music? Or are you merely interested in pleasing and delighting yourself, perhaps aiming always only for "solitary intoxication"? Of course one must enjoy and appreciate one's own music first and foremost. But what if the dilettante has tastes and sensibilities not only not commonly shared among many others, but also broadly avoided, shunned or even reviled? In that case I'd want to encourage the dilettante just to enjoy himself and not worry about trying to make it a livelihood.
A sense of service is what distinguishes a mature person from an immature person. The ability and desire to be of use to others and to actualize that IS important, and not just for composers and artists but for every social being. That being said, like all virtues, the desire to serve can be twisted, manipulated, distorted and used in destructive or just plain idiotic ways. A lot depends on why a person wants to be of service--is it out of love for others and humanity? Is it simply masquerading as service when the stronger motivation is egoistic craving for fame and wealth? It's hard to tell, most people have multiple motivations, often contradictory. None of us are perfect, but most of us, given enough time, are perfectible. I don't think that can happen in one lifetime, but that's for another topic altogether.
For example, a young man wants to be of service to his nation so he joins the military. He wants to do good, to protect his fellow citizens from harm. But that nation has a deeply pathological, sadistic and narcissistic leader who cannot distinguish his egoistic ambitions from his hyper-nationalistic impulses. So he starts a war against a nation that is of no threat to his nation; he does so because he wants to steal their oil, or their land, or he wants to be remembered as a great conquering hero to his people. So the young man's sincere service motive gets used against him as he is ordered to kill others and possibly get killed himself. This scenario is common throughout history and is being played out again in our supposedly 21st century "civilized" world.
Another example, far more benign, is an artist wants to be of service. So she begins working for a giant media corporation that has one primary aim--financial profit. What happens to the the artistic impulse, the desire to say something, to communicate beauty or truth to one's fellows? Year after year, this corporation turns out product with predictable endings, predictable stories, predictable characters--because they stick to what sells, what the masses will "consume" (funny term, I can see myself consuming a sandwich but I've never thought of myself as consuming a recording, a book or a film). Is the artist happy with their own work? Do they believe in how their art is being used? Maybe, maybe not. Again, it's complicated because each of us is a unique individual.
So, yes, service is a virtue to which we all ought to value and strive for to the best of our ability. I know I am performing a service when I put time, energy, talent, creativity, imagination, skill and knowledge into writing a symphony that most people don't care about and won't bother to listen to. When I was scoring industrial films I remember sitting there one morning in my studio watching a "scene" of a heat pump that "needed" background music. I was performing a service as defined by market-place values because I was getting paid to do it. But what was I serving exactly? Was I not just serving an idea about industry, capitalism and technology? I certainly was not serving art. So it's complicated, very complicated. The fantasy of the lone composer working in isolation is not appealing to me because I am a highly social and gregarious personality; it's fair to question who and what is being served by such behavior. But when I know I have the freedom to write music that means something deeply to myself, I have unshakeable faith that I am also serving something beyond myself, I am in service to beauty, to intellectual life, perhaps even to the cosmos in some meaningful, purposeful, almost superconscious way.
When I was a young man I took pride in believing that I was an independent thinker. But I've lately come to realize my thinking is utterly dependent upon truth, sincerity, reason and imagination--without those my thinking is just mechanical, "roof-brain chatter" almost worse than not thinking at all. I'm going to be quiet now. I wish you all well.