Nobody Cares About Your Writing — Until You Earn Money

Passion makes my hobby legitimate, no matter how much I make from it

I’m a writer. I’ve been through a long, internal struggle to accept that I can call myself that, but I’m over that bridge and I can say it now: I’m a writer.

However, when I tell other people that I write, I get strange looks and laughter. Sometimes, I’ll get a bit of a condescending remark disguised as support. “Keep it up!” Sometimes, they’ll ask me what sort of headlines I write and whether I rely on clickbait.

No matter how passionate or engaged I am when I explain what I write about and why, they persist in thinking that I’m delusional, an overambitious dreamer, or even just a little sad.

Until I tell them how much money I make.

Then, suddenly, they want to know all my secrets. How do I do it? How did I start? Where does the money come from? How can they start making this kind of money, too? Writing seemed like a silly little hobby that they were simply too realistic for — until they stood to benefit from my success.

This past month, I earned my biggest monthly payout ever, well over $1500, writing about the things that I care about. But for some reason, only the first half of that statement matters to people.

Dreams Are More Fragile Than You Might Realize

When people tell me what they’re passionate about — whether it’s opening an animal sanctuary, becoming a famous painter, or running a marathon — I never laugh. I never belittle them. I never patronize them or offer my advice, if it’s something I know nothing about.

That’s because when I tell people about my dreams, I’m being vulnerable. I’m sharing one of the deepest longings of my life with them, what I’m aiming my entire self at. And it has a big potential for injury.

I’ve shared my dream with certain people in my life, folks I’ve felt so close with or trusted so much, and they’ve turned around and told me it’s unrealistic to expect I’ll be able to make a living from blogging.

Even if I don’t mention money or my overall goal, even if all I say is that I love to write and hope to continue, they have some friendly, well-intentioned advice for me: don’t think you can take your writing seriously.

Do I tell my friend training for a marathon that their fitness gains will just go to waste? Do I need to inspect my pal’s paintings for quality before I think it’s amazing that they’re pursuing their passion? Do I tell them there are already so many musicians out there, that there’s no hope for them to ever make it big-time?

No. I support their dreams and encourage them as best they can. Is it so wild to expect the same treatment?

Only Money Legitimizes My Passion

Bloggers have a bad name in the hobby-sphere. For some reason, only wealthy, published authors, journalists, or memoir-writing celebrities can be considered real writers.

Mommy-, travel-, or food-blogger? Self-published? Sucks, but you’re not a real writer. People have no qualms about telling you that, over and over, like reaching into the hearts and souls of the people who read your work with just words is nothing to be impressed at.

Without looking at a single headline, people you consider your closest friends will inform you that writing clickbait isn’t that special and that anyone can do it.

Until, of course, you bring up your paycheck.

I recently had friends over for a board game afternoon. I was finishing up an article, and I told them I’d be done in just a minute. They laughed a little, sure I took myself just as unseriously as a writer as they did. One asked me if my latest headline was “Top Ten Ways to Play a Board Game; Number Two Will Surprise You.”

Trying to be good-natured, I told them my actual headline, and I offered to let them read a bit if they wanted.

“People actually read that kind of stuff?” one asked incredulously. I started to answer, but before I could, he was off onto a different conversation. I shrugged, finished the story, and went on to play the board game.

Later that same day, I showed my partner the email I’d just received: $1663.84 for my month’s work. The same friend who’d been so dismissive of my story started asking me how he could get started, how he could get followers, how long until he could be making that kind of money, too.

His thoughts were so clear they were nearly written on his forehead: if she can make over $1500 bucks just writing clickbait, then I can too. As if writing wasn’t a dream I’d been holding close to my chest for about for as long as I can remember. As if writing wasn’t a skill I’d practiced and honed just like any other.

You Can Laugh, but I Won’t Stop Writing

I think everyone has a dream. Everyone has something in their hearts that’s important and special to them in a way nobody else can understand. But only a very few people are bold and brave enough to put it all on the line to chase those passions. So when I’m open and admit that I really am out there, writing my soul into every story I create, it’s easier to put me down than ask themselves the question: why am I not doing this, too?

It’s easier to discourage me, to make me feel like I’m being the foolish dreamer who will never get anywhere with it than to put their own vulnerability out there in whatever form they choose.

Until, of course, I mention the money. Then it all makes sense to them: I’ve somehow gamed the system or cracked the code and can tell them how to do the same.

So to all the people out there who think it’s ridiculous to try to write for a living, or feel I’d be better off spending my time watching YouTube videos or bingeing Netflix, you can laugh at my dreams all you want. I won’t stop writing.