LIFE

Maybe We Don’t Need To Monetise Every Hobby

You’re allowed to be average at something you love.

I love a goal.

Give me something measurable and I will immediately find a way to turn it into a tiny personal competition.

I put my runs on Strava. I like seeing myself improve. I post the photos I take. I started Pinterest as a hobby and now very much hope it will eventually make me money.

Apparently, I am not exactly the poster child for doing things without an outcome.

But I also do Sudoku.

And the beautiful thing about Sudoku is that absolutely nobody cares.

Somewhere Along The Way, Hobbies Got Ambitious.

It feels like we’ve forgotten how to casually like things.

You start running.

Suddenly there’s Strava, pace, kilometres, personal records, races and someone casually asking whether you’ve considered a marathon.

You like taking photos.

Maybe you should start an Instagram account.

You like interiors.

Have you thought about affiliate marketing?

You bake really good bread.

You could sell it.

You make something beautiful and, almost immediately, someone says:

You could make money from this.

Which is meant as a compliment.

And sometimes it is a great idea.

But when did enjoying something stop being enough?

I’m Not Against Getting Better.

I actually think getting better can make a hobby more fun.

When I started running, I was bad at it.

Very bad.

It was hard. I was slow. I didn’t understand why anyone voluntarily did this multiple times a week.

Then I kept going.

And slowly, without really noticing, four kilometres became easier. I could run further. My pace improved. The thing I was bad at became something I genuinely enjoyed.

That progress feels good.

But there’s a difference between getting better because you keep doing something and doing something because you need to get better.

I don’t currently have some enormous running goal.

Maybe I’ll run a half marathon one day. Maybe I won’t.

I run because it makes my brain feel better.

Getting faster is a very nice side effect.

I’m Slow. So What?

Compared with quite a few of my friends, I’m a slow runner.

I know that.

I also upload my runs to Strava anyway.

There is something strangely freeing about being average at something and refusing to be embarrassed by it.

If I run a terrible 5K tomorrow, I’ll probably look at it and think:

Oh well. Maybe next time.

Nothing happened.

I didn’t fail.

Running isn’t my job.

Nobody is cancelling my sponsorship.

There is no quarterly performance review.

I just went for a run.

And ironically, having such low expectations makes it much harder for the hobby to disappoint me.

Then There Are The Kudos.

Except, of course, I also love the kudos.

Very much.

And I think pretending that we don’t care about that would make this whole argument a little dishonest.

I like sharing things.

I like when someone sees that I went running.

I like posting a photograph I’m proud of.

I like the tiny bit of validation that comes from someone essentially saying: I saw this. Nice.

It feels good.

And social media has become intertwined with hobbies in a way that isn’t automatically bad.

Sharing can make things more fun. It creates communities. It motivates us. It lets us celebrate each other.

But it also creates a strange question:

Would I still want to do this if nobody knew I did it?

And my answer is slightly inconvenient.

Not always.

Maybe Not Everything Has To Be Purely Intrinsic.

If Strava disappeared tomorrow and nobody could ever know about my runs again, I think I’d still run.

Probably once a week.

Would I train for a marathon?

Absolutely not.

I’d still cook.

I’d still dance around the kitchen.

I’d still do Sudoku.

Photography? Maybe less.

And I actually don’t think that’s something I need to fix.

We talk about intrinsic motivation as if enjoying something completely privately is somehow the purest form of having a hobby.

But humans like sharing things.

We like being seen.

We like someone saying that’s a beautiful photo or well done or giving us a completely meaningless digital thumbs-up after five kilometres.

Maybe the problem isn’t that other people add to our enjoyment.

Maybe the problem starts when their reaction becomes the enjoyment.

Pinterest Is Different.

Pinterest started as something I enjoyed doing.

And I still enjoy it.

But unlike Sudoku or running, there is a very clear ambition attached to it now.

I would love for it to make money through affiliate marketing.

That changes things.

If my views go down, I notice.

And I care.

If they keep going down, I’m disappointed.

If it never goes anywhere, there will probably come a point where I stop putting so much time into it.

Compare that with running.

If I run a slower five kilometres tomorrow, I’m still going to run again.

That’s an interesting difference.

The moment you attach an outcome to something, you also give it the ability to fail.

And Yet, Sometimes A Hobby Should Become More.

I don’t think the answer is to keep everything small.

Casa Mellow exists because I like interiors, writing, finding beautiful things and making something out of ideas.

Right now, I genuinely want to open my laptop and work on it.

Nobody is making me.

There isn’t an editor waiting for my article.

There isn’t a deadline.

I work on it when I have time because I want to see what I can make of it.

And yes, I would love for something I enjoy this much to eventually become something bigger.

There is nothing wrong with that.

Turning something you love into work can be brilliant.

But I think there is a moment worth protecting:

The part before you have to.

Before there are clients.

Before there are deadlines.

Before the algorithm has an opinion.

Before taking a week off means losing money.

Before something you used to reach for when you wanted to relax becomes something sitting on your to-do list.

Maybe monetising a hobby isn’t the problem.

Maybe believing that monetisation is what makes it valuable is.

Keep Something Pointless.

I think everyone needs at least one thing they are allowed to be completely unremarkable at.

No business plan.

No audience.

No five-year goal.

No need to become exceptional.

For me, maybe that’s Sudoku.

I can sit down, spend twenty minutes putting numbers into little squares and finish with absolutely nothing to show for it.

No one needs to see it.

I don’t need to post my Sudoku streak.

I don’t need to become a competitive Sudoku player.

I certainly don’t need to launch a Sudoku consultancy.

I can just close the book.

And start another one tomorrow.

Maybe The Goal Isn’t To Have No Goals.

I don’t want to stop measuring things.

I don’t want to stop improving.

I definitely don’t want to stop being ambitious.

Goals make me excited.

I love having an idea and figuring out how to turn it into something real.

But maybe ambition works better when it doesn’t own everything.

Some things can become projects.

Some can become businesses.

Some can have races, numbers, followers and plans attached to them.

And some things should be protected from all of that.

Dance while you’re cooking.

Do the crossword.

Take the photo even if you never post it.

Go for the slow run.

Make something you’re not particularly good at.

You don’t need to turn every thing you love into another thing you can succeed or fail at.

No audience.

No income.

No impressive outcome.

Just something you do because, for twenty minutes, you really like doing it.

And maybe that’s enough.

---

MORE PERSONALITY, PLEASE.