The dreamed slavery
Many years ago, I faced a decision that changed my life.
In the year 2000, when almost nobody was doing it yet, I started writing a blog. Then YouTube came along, and I opened my channel. Back then, there wasn’t the fierce competition we see today. If you offered a minimum of quality and understood how things worked, gaining traction was relatively easy. I published the first of what would become six books. Some of my articles reached the #1 spot worldwide on Google in their respective topics. Occasionally, strangers would recognize me on the street or when they heard the name of my online brand.
The specific details don’t matter anymore. The point is that I reached a stage where I could seriously consider becoming a full-time content creator. I had always turned down the frequent offers to put ads on my website or to write sponsored posts and reviews. But when the proposals started coming in at a much more serious level, I had to stop one day and really think about what I wanted to do.
At that time, my regular job was going very well and I was earning good money. But that wasn’t what convinced me. In fact, I had already hit the ceiling in my previous career. Years later, I ended up leaving it all behind to start studying from scratch in a completely different field.
I decided not to turn my hobby into a well-paid profession simply because what I enjoyed most about it was the freedom to choose it. I could do it when I wanted, and exactly how I wanted. If I tied something I loved so much to performance or results, and started depending on what others thought of my work, I would inevitably end up depending on other people. What had been a free activity would become a means to earn the things I needed to live. And that need would condition my freedom — and the happiness that freedom gave me. The extra money I could make wasn’t something I truly needed, and it wasn’t worth sacrificing anything for.
I turned down that offer just as I had turned down all the previous ones. I kept my blog 100% free of advertising and sponsorships. I even took the decision a step further: I realized that any kind of feedback about the success or failure of my content could potentially contaminate me. So I removed all audience analytics tools and disabled comments on my posts. From then on, I deliberately ignored my results.
That decision wasn’t just the right one — over time, I also noticed that my content started to change, just a little. When I reflected on it, I realized it now resembled even more what I truly wanted to create. Until that moment, without me even realizing it, there had been a subtle pressure to be accepted by my readers. It had been invisible. I only noticed it once it was gone, by contrast.
That blog lasted a total of 25 years. As I’ve already mentioned in my earlier posts here, last year I had the chance to leave everything behind and start a completely new life from zero. I published one final post, and since then I haven’t looked back.
A couple of days ago, I proposed an experiment to my new readers here — one that is already underway. In one of the messages I received, the person mentioned that sending postcards could be a good idea if I ever wanted to monetize it, especially once I start traveling. They suggested that other readers like them might enjoy receiving postcards with photos from different places around the world and would be willing to pay for a subscription that could help support my project.
It’s a good idea, but I’m not sure if it might end up conditioning me. I wonder whether there’s a way to offer something that others might like without giving up even a small part of my freedom. I’ll think about it. Maybe one day I’ll come up with something that feels right. But for now, I believe the answer has to be “no.”
