Part of Unpolished Advice—occasional dispatches from a recovering perfectionist with strong opinions and limited patience for life hacks.
You baked a beautiful loaf of sourdough.
You arranged flowers in a way that made your whole kitchen feel like spring.
You posted a doodle and someone commented, You should totally sell these!
And suddenly, a small voice inside you says:
Should I turn this into something?
This is how it starts.
The creeping suspicion that every joy must be justified. That every hobby must be monetized. That everything we love must earn its place by doing something.
It’s a trap. And a deeply modern one.
Capitalism has entered the chat
We live in a world where hobbies are suspicious. Where rest is only acceptable if it improves your performance. Where joy for joy’s sake feels… indulgent.
So we start looking for ways to make our joy productive. Marketable. Worthwhile.
We buy domains. We make logos. We download apps to track things we used to just do because we liked them.
And in the process, we lose the thread.
Not everything needs a business model
Some things can just be yours.
Not everything has to scale.
Not everything is a side hustle waiting to happen.
Not every creative impulse is a product in disguise.
You’re allowed to write poems no one reads.
You’re allowed to bake cookies and not post them.
You’re allowed to sing badly in your car and not record a cover for TikTok.
You’re allowed to make things that live and die in the moment—unbranded, unpromoted, unmonetized.
Joy is a valid reason to do something
We forget this. Especially those of us who came up in the “follow your passion” era. The idea that if you do what you love, the money will follow.
Sometimes, it does. But sometimes what follows is burnout. Pressure. The loss of something that once made you feel more like yourself.
Because the moment you turn something into content, into commerce, into strategy—it changes.
It’s not bad. It’s just different.
And sometimes, that difference is the thing that keeps us from making the thing at all.
You are not a walking business plan
You’re a human. With moods. With curiosity. With weird little interests that don’t need to be repackaged into a personal brand.
You’re allowed to enjoy things quietly.
To be a beginner forever.
To make terrible art and love it.
To start something and let it fizzle.
To not share the thing.
To not make it make sense.
Some of the most beautiful parts of life are unmarketable.
They’re just for you.
So the next time someone says “You should sell that,” try this response:
Thanks. I’m just enjoying it.
Then get back to the thing you love.
No invoice required.