You know that saying, “Do what you love and you’ll never work a day in your life”?
Yeah. About that.
Whoever said it clearly never tried turning their passion into a business.
This week, I’ve been thinking a lot about creativity — and why, oh why, I’ve landed in this weird, exhausting place where being creative automatically means it must make money.
This is a bit of a personal ramble, so pull up a chair, grab a cup of tea (or wine, I’m not judging), and let’s talk about it.
If you’re reading this, chances are you’re creative too. You probably love reading, or painting, or baking, or sketching little masterpieces no one else ever sees. Maybe you’ve got a camera roll full of DIY projects you’ll finish “someday.” And if you’re not doing something creative right now, I bet you dream about it when you have more time.
I’ve always been a dabbler — I design all my own book covers, play around with digital artwork, and I’ve even put some of my abstract art on clothing (yes, really — you can see it over on my Etsy store, blueberryprincess.com). But somewhere along the way, the fun of it slipped out the back door.
I’m about to set up one of my art shows, and as I lined up pieces for display, I caught myself thinking — what will most likely sell? Not, “what do I love?” or “what was I trying to express?” but “will this one pay for coffee?”
Then I stumbled on a few old paintings I did just for fun — experiments in color and texture, messy and a bit wild, but alive. And I realized with a jolt how long it’s been since I’ve done anything purely for the joy of it.
I want to create without thinking about the end result. I want to paint, knit, bake, draw, or make something ridiculous just because it makes me happy. I want to lose myself in that lovely, peaceful place where the process is the reward.
But… (here it comes) …as soon as I start, my brain jumps straight into business mode.
Could this go on my Etsy shop? Would it make a good social media post? Maybe I should photograph it in progress — ooh, I could even turn it into a reel! Maybe the local gallery would be interested. What about a Christmas craft stall?
See? Exhausting.
Meanwhile, Blueberry — my Papillon muse and professional napper — just sits there watching me over her tiny nose, like, “You know you could just draw a tree, right? For fun? Without hashtags?”
Do
you do this too? Do you find yourself trapped in the “creativity = income =
pressure = burnout” cycle?
And if you’ve figured out how to break it, please — teach me your ways.
Because right now, I’m trying to remember that art doesn’t have to be productive to be worthy. Sometimes, the best kind of creativity is the one that no one ever sees — the quiet sketch, the lopsided cookie, the messy experiment that’s just for you.
So if you need me, I’ll be over here with my sketchbook, doodling something I’ll never sell, post, or promote. Just me, the pencils, and Blueberry — who, by the way, insists that the best creative work begins with snacks.

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